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LETTERS 



FROM A FATHER 



HIS SONS IN COLLEGE 



BY SAMUEL MILLER, 0. D. 

M 

PROFESSOR IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY. 



m 

Qui studet optatam cursu contingere met am, 
Multa tulit fecitque puer, suclavit et alsit. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 
Pudore et liberalitate liberos 
Retinere, satius esse credo, quam metu. 

Terence, 



PHILADELPHIA: 
PRESBYTERIAN BOAPvD OF PUBLICATION, 

No. 265 CHESTNUT STREET. 



4>t 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 

A. W. MITCHELL, M. D. 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 



Stereotyped by Slote & Mooney, Philadelphia. 
Wm. S. Mar tien, Printer. 



DEDICATION. 

To every Parent who has a son in college ; and to every 
Son who is placed in that interesting and responsible situa- 
tion, this volume is affectionately inscribed. The former 
may, perhaps, learn from it to estimate more justly his 
power, though afar off, to contribute toward averting 
the dangers, and promoting the improvement, of one un- 
speakably dear to him : and the latter, if he is not blind to 
his own honour and happiness, and reckless to all the claims 
of his friends,, his Alma Mater, his Country and his God, 
will certainly find in it counsels not unworthy of his most 
serious regard. 

(in) 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

The writer of this volume has had five sods trained and 
graduated in the College of New Jersey. The following 
Letters, not ; indeed, precisely in their present form, but in 
substance, were actually addressed to them. There is, pro- 
bably, not one idea contained in this manual which was not, 
during their course in that Institution, distinctly communi- 
cated to them, either orally or in writing. The influence 
of these counsels on their minds, it is believed, was not 
wholly useless. May they prove still more useful when 
presented in this revised and more public form ! 

Princeton, March 30, 1843, 

(iv) 



CONTENTS, 



LETTER I. 

PAGE 

Introductory, 7 

LETTER II. 
Obedience to the Laws, 16 

LETTER III. 
Manaers, 29 

LETTER IV. 
Morals, 46 

LETTER V. 
Religion, 55 

LETTER VI. 
Rebellions, 77 

LETTER VII. 
Health, 88 

LETTER VIII. 
Temperance, 100 

LETTER IX. 
Formation and Value of Character, 113 

LETTER X. 
Patriotism, 122 

(v) 



VI CONTENTS. 

LETTER XI. 

PAGE 

Particular Studies, 129 

LETTER XII. 
General Reading, 145 

LETTER XIII. 
Attention, Diligence, . 166 

LETTER XIV. 
Associations, Friendships, 176 

LETTER XV. 
Literary Societies in College, 186 

LETTER XVI. 
Dress, 193 

LETTER XVII. 
Care of the Student's Room, 198 

LETTER XVIII. 
Expenses, 203 

LETTER XIX. 
Alma Mater,..., 211 

LETTER XX. 
Parents, 219 

LETTER XXI. 
Vacations, 226 

LETTER XXII. 
Concluding Remarks, 233 



LETTERS, & 



LETTER I. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

My Dear Sons— You have escaped from the place 
and the name of school-boys, and have become mem- 
bers of a college ; a college not only venerable for its 
age and standing, but also famous as the Alma Mater 
of a large number of the most eminent men that have 
ever adorned our country. This step will, no doubt, 
form an important era in your lives ; perhaps more 
important than either you or I now anticipate. In 
placing you in this new and responsible situation, my 
feelings have been peculiar and solemn. I have 
looked back upon my own college course, in another 
institution,* with mingled emotions. The retrospect 
of its advantages, its pleasing associations,' both with 
teachers and fellow students, and the protection and 
guidance with which I was favoured by a merciful 
Providence, at that season of youthful inexperience 
and peril, never fail to inspire gratitude. But the 
recollection of my mistakes, my failures, my incorrect 
estimate of the value of some of my prescribed studies 
and pursuits, my loss of precious opportunities, and 
my false steps, at that critical period of my life, is 
always connected with self-reproach. A thousand 
times have I said, " 0, if I had known as much as I 
now know of the value of certain studies, and the 

* Dr. Miller was a graduate of the University of Pennsyl- 
vania, located in Philadelphia. — Editor. 

(7) 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

wisdom of certain courses of conduct earnestly recom- 
mended to me by parents and friends — how unspeak- 
ably more might I have profited by the privileges 
which I was then permitted to enjoy !" 

Can you wonder, then, my dear sons, that I am 
deeply anxious for your welfare and improvement in 
the new situation in which I have thought it my duty 
to place you? And can you doubt that I am ardently 
desirous of imparting to you a portion of my early 
experience ? Some of that experience was dearly 
bought. If you are willing and docile you may receive 
the advantages of it upon easier terms. The import- 
ance of parental instruction and discipline is founded 
on the fact, that every successive individual of our 
species comes into the world ignorant, feeble and 
helpless ; and that the same process for instilling 
knowledge into the mind, and for restraining the 
passions, and correcting the evil propensities of our 
nature, must be undergone, de novo, in every instance. 
If you could start with the knowledge and the expe- 
rience with which the aged leave off, you would stand 
less in need of instruction and exhortation from 
those who have gone before you ; but as this is im- 
possible, you must be content to acquire knowledge, 
and to gain the mastery over your corrupt propensities, 
in the way appointed by a gracious God for our fallen 
race. 

Listen, then, to a father who loves you most sin- 
cerely ; who will never willingly give you a delusive 
counsel ; who prays that you may be inspired with 
heavenly wisdom ; and who can have no greater 
pleasure than to see you pursuing a course adapted to 
render you in the highest degree useful, beloved and 
happy in this world, and for ever blessed in that more 
important world which is to come. 

But beside my natural affection for you, and my 
tender interest in your welfare, there are other con- 
siderations which present a claim to your attention to 
the counsels contained in these letters. I am the son, 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

as you know, of a minister of the gospel, who passed 
through a long life devoted to the acquirement and 
the communication of the best of all knowledge, and 
who left me many precious counsels, the result of his 
experience, from which I should have been inexcusable 
had I not derived some profit. I have myself now 
lived more than three score and ten years, and, of 
course, have had much opportunity of observing the 
conduct and the end of many young men who enjoyed 
the advantages now conferred on you. I have myself 
passed through a college course, and, consequently, 
know something of the character, the habits, and the 
temptations of college life. I have been a trustee of 
the college with which you are connected between 
thirty and forty years, and, in discharging the duties 
of this office, have become intimately acquainted with 
the docility, the diligence, and the success of one class 
of students ; and with the aberrations, the discipline, 
the degrading habits, and the ultimate destruction of 
another class. It would be strange, indeed, if one who 
had enjoyed advantages, and passed through scenes of 
this kind, should not be in some degree qualified to 
administer warning and caution to those who are be- 
ginning a course so momentous to each individual as 
that on which you have entered. And it would be 
supposing peculiar perverseness and infatuation on 
your part; to doubt whether you ought to regard with 
some respect the counsels of such a friend. 

It has occurred to me, too, that by embodying and 
presenting a few paternal counsels, I may, by the 
divine blessing, not only profit you ; but by offering 
them to the public, from the press, become instru- 
mental in conferring benefits on the children of some 
of my beloved friends similarly situated with your- 
selves ; and possibly the children of others, whose 
faces I never saw, and never shall see in the flesh, 
may not be wholly unprofited by the counsels of an 
old man, who was once in their situation, and whose 
duty and happiness it is to promote the welfare of in- 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

genuous youth, wherever and whenever they may he 
placed within his reach. 

I acknowledge, also, I am not without some hope 
that another benefit may result from the preparation 
of this manual. I am persuaded that some, at least, 
of the young men whose disorders in college degrade 
themselves, distress their parents, and give trouble to 
their teachers, are betrayed into their ill conduct more 
by thoughtlessness, by inexperience, and by ignorance 
of the world, than by any fixed purpose of insubordi- 
nation or rebellion. They become delinquents more 
from inadvertence and juvenile folly, than from settled 
design ; and, of course, what they chiefly need is to 
have their attention called to a variety of subjects, 
connected with college discipline, and college duty, in 
regard to which their views and habits are at present 
erroneous, chiefly because they have never seriously 
considered them ; and have never been taught better. 
The benefit of such young men is not only earnestly to 
be desired, but their case is far from being hopeless. 
There is every prospect that discreet and well directed 
efforts may make an impression conducive to their per- 
manent good. If therefore, while I put you on your 
guard against the company and the influence of such 
young men, as long as their present habits continue, 
they should be disposed to take the friendly hints here 
dropped, and to "consider their ways," we may all 
have reason to rejoice together that this labour of sin- 
cere good will has not been in vain. 

It is common to remind the young that they occupy 
a station in their course peculiarly critical and impor- 
tant ; that youth is the seed-time of life ; that this is 
the period in which knowledge is to be acquired, habits 
to be formed, and provision to be made for all coming 
time. To young men in college all these suggestions are 
peculiarly appropriate. To no point of time, perhaps, 
in your whole course, can the epithets critical and im- 
portant be so justly and strongly applied as to that 
which embraces your college life. Now you are first 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

brought into anything like close contact with the world. 
Now your character is to be tried in a manner that it 
has never yet been. Now you are to be left more to 
yourselves than heretofore. Now it is to be seen 
whether your love of knowledge is so great as that you 
will study with diligence, when not constantly under 
the immediate eyes of your teachers. ■ Hitherto you 
have had few associations but with the sober and orderly. 
Now you are to stand the test of being associated with 
some of a very different character. In your college 
course, habits in some respects new are to be formed. 
Various kinds of knowledge, to which you have been 
heretofore strangers, are to be acquired. Your charac- 
ters are to receive a stamp which will, in all probability, 
be indelible. It is during the few years which, if your 
lives are spared, you are expected to spend in this in- 
stitution, that it is to be seen whether you can with- 
stand the blasts of corrupt influence with which every 
college, known to me, is more or less infected ; whether 
you will have wisdom given you to appreciate the dan- 
ger, and to turn away from the " instruction that 
causeth to err." In short, the college course of a young 
man' who is pursuing an education, may be said to be, 
in a sense which belongs to no other period of equal 
extent — the "turning point" of his life. Here, we 
may almost say, everything for his weal or woe will be 
determined. No one can predict what any young man 
is to be till he is tried. This may be called — more 
than any other which either precedes or follows it — the 
trying period, on w T hich more depends than any human 
arithmetic can calculate. 

Can you wonder, then, my dear sons, that your fa- 
ther, aware of this, and recollecting it with the deepest 
interest, is anxious for your welfare ? Can you wonder 
that he carries your situation every day before the 
throne of grace, and implores for you the protection 
and guidance of your father's God ? Remember that, 
in every period of life, you need light and strength 
from on high, to enable you to resist temptation, and 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

to improve the advantages under which you are placed. 
But you need this grace peculiarly now. Pray for it 
without ceasing. Be upon your guard against all the 
dangers of which I am about to warn you. Remember 
that you are now in a situation in w T hich one false step 
may ruin you ; in which yielding to the influence of 
one profligate companion may plunge you into embar- 
rassments and difficulties from which you may never 
be able to extricate yourselves. "Watch and pray 
that you enter not into temptation." " Wherewith 
shall a young man cleanse his way ? By taking heed 
thereto according to God's word." No one is so likely 
to escape the snares with which he is surrounded, as 
he who is impressed with a deep sense of his own weak- 
ness, and is continually seeking help from above. 

Remember the purpose for which you have been 
placed in the institution to which you belong ; to learn, 
not to teach ; to obey, not to govern. Remember, too, 
that, without your own habitual and faithful efforts, 
your position in a college will be altogether unavailing. 

Many parents, and, I fear, some youth, are apt to 
imagine that there is something in such an institution, 
which, as a matter of course, will fill the minds of pu- 
pils with knowledge, and lead to rich improvement. 
They seem to think that they are like open vessels sent 
to be filled, and that instruction may be poured into 
them without any agency, or even concurrence of their 
own. I trust this mistake never found a place in your 
minds ; and that if it ever has in any measure, the 
little experience you have gained has completely ban- 
ished it. 

Your great object is to ascend the hill of literature 
and science. Now, in gaining this ascent, you cannot 
be carried or borne up on the shoulders of others. You 
must climb it yourselves. You must have guides in 
your arduous enterprise ; and these guides may give 
you many directions, and furnish you with many arti- 
cles of apparatus , which will facilitate your ascent. 
But ? after all, the exertion by which you climb must 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

be your own act. The mind can be strengthened only 
by appropriate aliment, and habitual exercise. Gain- 
ing ideas and principles ; depositing them in the mind ; 
digesting them, and making them our own ; and thus 
strengthening, enlarging, and furnishing the intellec- 
tual powers, — all require incessant application and 
labour on our part. It was mental exercise and toil 
which, under God, enabled Bacon, andiVewfam, andi!fz7- 
ton so much to rise above the mass of their fellow men. 
If they had made no personal efforts, but had depended 
on being borne up, and borne along by the strength 
of others, or by the native force of their own powers — 
they would never have reached the elevation which they 
gained. You are placed in circumstances highly 
favourable to your gaining knowledge, and in every 
way improving your minds; but unless you will con- 
sent to exert yourselves, and to labour diligently in 
this pursuit, you will gain but little. In silver and 
gold a man may be made rich, eminently rich, by the 
labour or munificence of others ; but in intellectual 
furniture and strength, he can no more be enriched by 
the toil of others, than his daily food can be digested, 
and made to nourish him, by the mastication and the 
stomachs of those around him. 

In the gregarious mode of life in which you are now 
placed, you will, no doubt, find both advantage and 
hindrance. In the colleges situated in our large cities, 
you know, the students do not usually lodge in public 
edifices, or board together in public refectories. They 
only come together daily at their recitations, and, when 
these are closed, return to their respective places of 
lodging. This was the case in the University of 
Pennsylvania, in which I was educated. When large 
numbers of students are placed in this situation with 
respect to each other, their harmonious action, and 
especially their efficient co-operation, are neither so 
constant nor so easy, as when they all board and lodge 
together in adjoining public edifices. In this latter 
plan there are some very material advantages. But 
2 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

there are some countervailing considerations. When 
students live apart, there may be much profligacy and 
mischief going on ; but it is less concentrated and less 
seen. When they all live together, their movements 
are more prominent and noticeable ; combination is 
more easy ; they are more liable to excitement ; 
and when excitement does spring up, it is apt to be 
more heated and violent. It is said, that in the Uni- 
versity of Aberdeen, in Scotland, where there are two 
colleges, Marischal and Kings, the students belonging 
to the one all lodge and board together ; while the stu- 
dents of the other are distributed in different boarding- 
houses through the city. In the former, it is alleged, 
there is a more frequent occurrence of obtrusive noise 
and disorder; in the latter, more unbridled vice and 
profligacy, which never meet the public eye. 

While I prefer, on the whole, having students im- 
mured together, yet I wish you to be aware that there 
are some perils connected with this system. You will 
find more vigilance and caution called for in regard to 
your associations, and more need of prudence to avoid 
being implicated in those excitements and combinations 
which are so apt to spring up where large numbers of 
human beings herd together. Recollect this. Be ever 
on the watch to guard against the evils, and to avail 
yourselves of the advantages which attend your posi- 
tion : — and may He who has all hearts and all events 
in his hands, grant you his blessing, and his unceasing 
guidance ! 

If I could admit the thought, my dear sons, that 
you resembled those students who are to be found in 
every college that I have ever seen, and some of whom, 
it is to be feared, belong to your own classes, I should 
not have the heart to write another sentence. I mean 
young men who have no real love of knowledge ; no am- 
bition to be distinguished for either wisdom or virtue ; 
who have no regard for the peace and order of society ; 
no respect or gratitude for their instructors ; and who 
cannot be excited to either diligence or decency by 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

even a regard to the feelings of their parents : who 
study as little as college discipline will allow, and who 
have no idea of enjoying life, or of manifesting manli- 
ness, but in idleness, dissipation, and those miserable 
disorders which indicate unprincipled vulgarity more 
than anything else. For such youth it is in vain to 
write or to reason. Their course cannot fail, without 
a miracle, to be disgraceful to themselves, and agoniz- 
ing to those who love them. If I thought that you 
in any degree partook of this spirit, I should here lay 
down my pen in despair. But, indulging the hope 
that you love knowledge ; that you cherish a spirit of 
generous ambition to be useful in your day, and to 
gratify your parents, I will go on, and pour out the 
fulness of a heart glowing with regard to your welfare. 
May God enable me to write, and you to read, in such 
a manner as may result in our mutual joy ! 



LETTER II 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

" Sanctio justa, jubens honesta, et prohibens contraria." 

Br ac ton de Legibus Anglice. 

" Sine lege est sine ratione, modo, ordine." 

My Dear Sons — In every college there is a system 
of laws, which all who enter it are, of course, bound 
to obey. And they are under this obligation anterior 
to any formal engagement to that purpose. Every in- 
genuous and honourable mind will perceive that he who 

-offers himself as an inmate of any family or society, 
the rules of which are established and publicly known, 
must be understood as agreeing to those rules, and as 
coming under a virtual stipulation to obey them. He who 
comes in without intending to do this, and without 
actually doing it, will be considered by every honest 
man, not merely as a pest and a nuisance, but as 
forfeiting all title to the character of probity and hon- 
our. He who pleads, then, that he is under no obli- 
gation to conform to the known laws of a college of 
which he is a member, because he has not formally 

. promised to do so, might just as well say, that he is at 
liberty, consistently with moral honesty, to violate the 
laws of the state, because he has never come under a 
public and formal engagement to obey them ; which 
not one citizen in a thousand has ever done. How 
would such a plea be regarded by a judge or jury in a 
case of theft, fraud or perjury ? We need not wait 
for an answer. He who should make such a plea, 
•would, undoubtedly, be considered as a felon in spirit, 
if not proved to be one in act and be driven from all 
(16) 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 17 

decent society. I should certainly not be willing to 
entrust my purse with uncounted money in the hands 
of a student who should seriously advance such an 
apology for violating a college law. 

Some years since, in the college to which it is your 
privilege to belong, every student, on his admission, 
was required formally to declare, that he had read and 
understood the laws of the institution ; and that he 
" solemnly pledged his truth and honour to obey them." 
And yet, even then, there were students who laid high 
claims to the character of both truth and honour, who 
deliberately violated some of the most important of 
those laws, and even plumed themselves on the dexte- 
rity and success with which the violation was accom- 
plished. And what do you think their plea then was ? 
Why, that their engagement could not be called a vol- 
untary one ; that they had been placed in the college 
by the authority of their parents ; that the promise to 
obey the laws was an indispensable formality, submis- 
sion to which they could not avoid, without refusing to 
enter the institution, and this consideration, according 
to their extraordinary logic, liberated them from every 
bond of obedience ! With just as much propriety might 
a witness, summoned to give testimony in a court of 
justice, allege that, inasmuch as the solemnity of taking 
an oath, prior to giving his testimony, was a formality 
forced upon him by the law of the land, without which 
he could not. be permitted to appear as a witness, he 
was not bound to speak the truth. Every honest man 
would instinctively despise a youth who was capable of 
advancing such a plea. Such an one might hold his 
head high, and make the most lofty pretensions to 
honourable principles and conduct ; but, in the estima- 
tion of all correct minds, he would be regarded as, 
virtually if not formally, a perjured villain. The very 
same plea might a judge, or a magistrate of any grade, 
make with regard to his oath of office. It is a sine qua 
non to his introduction to office. In this sense, the 
requisition may be called a compulsory one. He can- 
2* 



18 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

not perform a single official duty, or enjoy a single 
official privilege or emolument, without it. But what 
would you think of such an officer, if, after having taken 
the prescribed oath, he were to allege, that it was not 
binding, because he was obliged either to take it, or lose 
his office ; and to imagine that he might break it 
without crime or dishonour ? You would, doubtless, 
consider him as a scoundrel, quite as worthy of a place 
in the penitentiary as many of those whom his sen- 
tences had sent thither. 

But I will not dwell longer on these degrading sub- 
terfuges, to which none but minds utterly destitute of 
all sound and honourable principle would ever think of 
resorting. 

I trust, my dear sons, you will equally despise and 
abhor every plea, nay every thought, of this kind ; 
and that you will avoid the society of every fellow 
student who is capable of avowing such a compound of 
meanness and profligacy. Every real gentleman who 
enters even a public hotel, will strictly conform to the 
rules of the establishment, which he finds suspended 
on the wall, or immediately quit the house. There is 
no medium in the view of a correct mind. I would 
infinitely rather find a son of mine honestly confessing 
his delinquency in violating a college law, and incur- 
ring the whole weight of the penalty, than disgracing 
himself by pleas which evince radical obliquity of 
moral principle. A youth of substantially pure moral 
sentiments and habits may be betrayed into an inad- 
vertent violation of a statute under which he has volun- 
tarily placed himself; but the refined Jesuitism, which 
would explain away a palpable obligation, and justify 
a virtual perjury, is ripe for almost every crime to 
which an inducement is presented. 

But, independently of all engagements, either ex- 
press or implied, to obey the laws under which you are 
placed, as members of a college, I would suggest some 
considerations in favour of obedience to them, which I 
am sure you will think weighty, unless your minds are 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 19 

more deplorably perverted by a factitious system of 
morals, than my affection for you will allow me to sup- 
pose. When you are tempted to violate the smallest 
law of the institution, let the following reflections occur 
to your minds, and exert that influence which I am 
sure they will on every enlightened and pure con- 
science. 

1. By whom were these laws made ? Not by ca- 
pricious or unreasonable tyrants. Not by a body of 
austere, gloomy men, who had forgotten the season 
of their own youth, and were desirous of abridging your 
comforts, and of imposing upon you an unnecessary 
and painful yoke. Not at all. But by the trustees 
of the institution ; by a body of enlightened, reasona- 
ble, conscientious men, who have been college students 
themselves; and, of course, know the feelings, the 
temptations, and the dangers of students : — by affec- 
tionate and faithful parents who feel tenderly for the 
welfare and happiness of youth ; and would not lay 
upon a young man a single restraint which they did 
not know would be for his good : — by men of age, and 
culture, and experience, who have not only been young 
themselves, but who have seen for years the evils, nay 
the almost certain ruin, to which students are exposed 
by being left to their own inclinations :— by men 
whose feelings are predominantly kind and benevolent, 
and who would never vote for the enactment of any 
law, which had not been found by experience to be 
indispensable : — by men who have deliberately taken 
an oath to promote the best interests of the institution, 
and of the youth committed to their care. Surely 
laws formed by such men ; deliberately reviewed and 
persisted in from year to year ; and carefully modified 
as circumstances may require ; — ought to be regarded 
with deep respect, and to bind the heart, as well as 
the conscience, of every ingenuous student. The 
young man who, when such laws are in question, can 
treat them with contempt, or even with neglect, has, 
indeed, little reason to plume himself upon either the 



20 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

soundness of his understanding, or the rectitude of his 
moral feelings. 

2. Reflect whether you have any just reason to find 
fault with any one of these laws. I do not ask, whether 
many disorderly and unprincipled students would not 
wish some of them to be repealed or altered. But is 
there one of them which will not stand the test of serious 
and impartial examination ? Is there one of them 
unreasonable, harsh, or adapted to injure either those 
who are found faithfully obeying it, or any others ? 
Is there one, concerning which you can lay your hands 
on your hearts, and say that it would be for the benefit 
of the college and of the students that it should be re- 
pealed ? I am verily persuaded that the most reck- 
less and licentious member of your college, or of any 
college — if he would go over the whole code of its laws 
in detail, and suffer his sober moral sense deliberately 
to sit in judgment upon each one, could not find one 
which he would be willing to say ought to be expunged. 
Let him single out from all the prohibited offences 
against the order of the college, that one which he 
should judge to involve the least degree of moral turpi- 
tude, and then ask himself what would be the conse- 
quence if that offence were habitually committed by 
every student in the house ? This is the real test to 
which every matter of the kind in question. ought to be 
brought. He who on any occasion, or in regard to any 
subject, allows himself to do a thing, or to act upon a 
principle, which, if it were made the principle of uni- 
versal action, would be productive of much mischief, 
must be considered by all sober thinkers as an offender 
against the peace and order of society. Will this 
reasoning be deemed too refined, or too much re- 
moved from the feelings of common life to be re- 
cognized as practically important by an intelligent 
young man, who is beginning to feel his obligations as 
a patriot and a social being, if not as a Christian ? I 
would fain hope not. There must be something radi- 
cally rotten in the moral principles of that youth, who 
refuses to consider whether the course he is pursuing 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 21 

is injurious or not to the institution with which he is 
connected, or to the best interests of society at large ; 
or who deliberately resolves, at the expense of such in- 
jury, to indulge his criminal passions. Surely he need 
not be told, that this is the essential character of those 
wretched invaders of the peace of society, whom public 
justice pronounces unfit to go at large, or even to live. 
8. Reflect farther, how much it is your own interest 
to obey every jot and tittle of the laws under which 
you are placed. Need I say, that the more scrupulous 
and faithful your obedience to all the rules of the in- 
stitution, the less of your time will be withdrawn from 
your studies, and wasted in plotting mischief; in adopt- 
ing mean and lying contrivances to escape detection ; 
and in that uneasiness and dissipation of thought to 
which scenes of disorder always lead ? Many a de- 
luded youth has forfeited his scholarship, and lost his 
standing in his class, by squandering those hours in 
plans of ingenious disobedience which he would other- 
wise have devoted to his studies. Remember, too, that 
the more exemplary your obedience to all the laws of 
the college, the more you will gain the esteem and 
confidence of your instructors, and the more favour- 
able your prospect of obtaining that grade of honour 
in your class, to which your talents and acquirements 
may entitle you. For it must not be forgotten, that in 
every well regulated and faithfully conducted college, 
the moral conduct of every student, and his obedience 
to the laws, are necessarily taken into the account, in 
estimating his title to the honours dispensed to his 
class. Accordingly, I have known students of the 
finest talents, and of elevated attainments, to close 
their collegial career in the second, if not the third 
grade of literary rank, merely because they had been 
characteristically regardless of some of the laws of the 
institution with which they were connected ; and, 
though often reproved for their delinquency, failed to 
profit by the admonitions of their teachers. Nor did 
any one, except ; perhaps, some partial and blinded 



22 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS, 

parents, disapprove of the award. In fact, it could 
not have been ordered otherwise, without gross injustice 
to the individuals concerned, and no less injustice to 
the institution whose laws they had trampled under 
feet. Let it also be borne in mind, that he who is 
punctual in obeying every prescribed law, is more easy 
and comfortable in his own mind ; approaches his 
teachers and his fellow-students with more fearless con- 
fidence ; and is affected with none of that torturing 
anxiety which must ever, in a greater or less degree, 
invade the peace of him who is conscious of being 
chargeable with habitual violations of the laws which 
he is bound to ohej. How sweet and enviable must 
have been the feelings of a distinguished young gen- 
tleman from the South, of fine talents and scholarship, 
and of a wealthy family, whom I once knew, who, after 
he had been a member of the college in this place for 
several years, was able to say, " I am not conscious 
of having violated the smallest law of the institution 
since I have been connected with it." It is hardly 
necessary to say, that his career was a pleasant and 
honourable one, and that he left the college enjoying 
the respect and love of all who knew him. 

4. Consider, further, how much credit you will 
reflect on your Alma Mater by a punctual and exem- 
plary conformity to her regulations. Travellers, in 
passing through Princeton, have been, more than 
once, prejudiced against our college, by happening to 
see several students hanging about the tavern doors ; 
swaggering with an air of vulgar and insolent impor- 
tance ; smoking, and, perhaps, using profane language. 
Now, though I conscientiously believe that scenes of 
this kind are not so frequently exhibited in your col- 
lege as in some others ; yet whenever exhibited, they 
TVill not fail to prejudice some individuals who may 
happen to witness them. The travellers to whom I 
refer — not pious, but worldly-minded and gay, yet 
polished and reflecting, have, in some instances, to my 
certain knowledge, most unjustly, formed conclusions 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 23 

against the college from this unfavourable specimen 
of its students ; and have resolved never to send a son 
to it, Jest he should be brought up in the midst of 
vulgarity and profaneness. 

Impressions of this kind, though most unjust, have 
been more than once made by the appearance of a 
single unfortunate individual, and a general character 
of the college and of its inmates thence derived, of a 
very unfavourable kind. I need not say, that a candid 
and generous minded young man would be deeply 
pained at the thought of inflicting such a wound on 
the reputation of his literary mother ; and that he 
would consider any one thus capable of sporting with 
the character of an individual, and much more of an 
important public institution, as deeply guilty. 

5. Reflect, once more, on the position in which your 
teachers are placed with regard to the execution of the 
laws. Perhaps no feeling is more apt to spring up in 
the minds of college students, than that of hostility 
to their instructors. They are prone to consider the 
Faculty, as, of course, an adverse body, needlessly 
strict, and even tyrannical, and leagued against their 
pleasures. From this feeling, the transition is easy to 
the habit of regarding the faculty, in enforcing the 
laws, as a body which it is no sin to oppose, and over 
which it is rather a meritorious act to gain a triumph. 
Can it be necessary to employ reasoning to show that 
such feelings and sentiments are highly absurd ; and 
that those who indulge them take the most preposterous 
ground ? Are not the members of college faculties 
men of like passions with others ? Is it reasonable to 
accuse them of gratuitous and wanton oppression ? Can 
they be supposed to have an interest in making the 
college to which they belong unpopular, with either 
parents or young men, and, of course, driving students 
away from it ? On the contrary, is it not manifestly 
the interest of every one, from the president down to 
the youngest tutor, to teach and govern in such a man- 
ner as to be acceptable to all, and to draw as many 



24 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

students a§ possible to the institution with which he is 
connected ? True, indeed, they have all solemnly sworn 
faithfully to execute the laws of the institutions, in 
which they are respectively placed as teachers ; and if 
they are wise and honest men, they are fully persuaded, 
that carrying all the laws into execution, is the best 
method for securing the welfare and happiness of the 
pupils themselves, as well as the best interest of all 
concerned. Under these engagements and convictions 
can they be blamed for acting according to their con- 
scientious impressions of duty ? Would you not secretly 
despise them if they acted otherwise ? How unrea- 
sonable, then, the prejudice against them for discharg- 
ing a duty, -which all acknowledge to be solemnly re- 
quired at their hands ! The truth is, instead of there 
being any temptation impelling the members of any 
faculty to be over-rigorous or oppressive in the execu- 
tion of college laws, the temptation is, in almost all 
cases, the other way. And I am compelled to say, 
that, after going through a college course myself, more 
than fifty years ago ; and after having been an atten- 
tive observer of the character, course of instruction, and 
discipline of different colleges for more than forty 
years ; — I say, after all this opportunity for observation, 
I am constrained to assert, that I have seldom known 
any college faculty to err on the side of excessive rigour, 
in the execution of the code of laws with which they 
were entrusted ; but that the mistake has, almost always, 
been on the side of undue laxity, rather than the re- 
verse. Discipline has commonly been either too tardy 
in its pace, or marked with too much lenity in its char- 
acter. Here has been the fruitful source of a large 
portion of the evils which beset bands of college stu- 
dents. If discipline were conducted with more strict- 
ness than it is, rather than less ; if learners in our 
public institutions were more accustomed to "bear the 
yoke in their youth," it were better for them, and 
better for the institutions to which they belong. 

I hope, my dear sons, it is not necessary for me to 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 25 

say, that my object, in all that has been said, is not to 
make you either mopes or slaves. On the contrary, I 
am persuaded that the more perfectly you imbibe the 
spirit, and form the habits which I have recommended, 
the more happy ; the more truly free and independent ; 
the more manly and gentlemanly in the best sense of 
those words ; the more highly respectable you will ever 
appear, in your own eyes, and in the eyes of all around 
you. My acquaintance with college students has been 
large, and somewhat intimate ; and my recollection en- 
ables me unequivocally to affirm, that the most accom- 
plished scholars, the most enlarged and independent 
thinkers, the most high-minded and honourable indi- 
viduals of the whole number that I have ever known, 
were precisely those whose obedience to the laws was 
most perfect ; who knew the value of order in conduct 
as well as in study ; who invariably treated their in- 
structors with respect, and enjoyed their entire confi- 
dence ; who never met them but with an erect and 
assured countenance ; and whose whole character was 
regarded by all their associates as elevated and hon- 
ourable. Such has been my invariable experience. 
To imagine that the contrary is apt to be the case, is 
a miserable delusion. So fixed is my persuasion of the 
truth of this statement, that whenever I hear that a 
young man has fallen under the frowns and the disci- 
pline of his instructors, I take for granted, without a 
moment's hesitation, that he is a poor scholar, and that, 
however he may boast of his "honour/' or his "inde- 
pendence/' he has very little of either to spare. 

Do you ask me what portions or classes of the laws 
I would have you studiously to obey? I answer, The 
whole — every "jot and tittle," from the most deeply vital 
to the most trivial and minute. You as really break 
the laws of the institution with which you are connected, 
and as really forfeit that "truth and honour" which 
you have virtually, if not formally pledged — by cutting 
with your penknife the fences and doors, and window 
casements and seats of the college, as by more bold and 
3 



26 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

dangerous acts of disorder. Only suppose every one 
to indulge in such a propensity, and to what a disgust- 
ing and miserable state would everything in and about 
the college edifices be speedily reduced ! But it is my 
wish, with peculiar emphasis, to guard you against all 
participation in those infractions of law, which lead to 
public disturbance, and especially which endanger 
health or life. When I have heard of students who 
claimed to be young " gentlemen of honour/' exploding 
gunpowder in the college-rooms, to the destruction of 
property, and at the most imminent risk of personal, 
and perhaps fatal, injury of some fellow student or 
teacher, I have found it difficult to avoid the impression, 
not merely that the perpetrator was an unprincipled 
and dishonoured youth ; but that he was actuated by 
those reckless and vile passions which distinguish the 
murderer ; that he was wholly unfit to occupy a place in 
decent society ; and that the state prison was his proper 
abode. 

Say not that this language is too severe. It is the 
language of " truth and soberness." It is true, I 
should lament such an outrage, if not followed by fatal 
effects, less — much less than where a life had been lost. 
But as to the quo animo, it does really appear to me, 
that he who can deliberately lend himself to such an 
outrage as has been referred to, deserves little if any 
less abhorrence than many a midnight assassin. 

I have only to add, that, where this species of outrage 
is so planned and conducted (as has more than once 
occurred in different colleges) as to invade the peace of 
a private family, and to fill with terror and with anguish, 
and expose to imminent danger, delicate females, there 
is a degree of brutality added to crime, of which it is 
not easy to speak in terms expressive of adequate 
abhorrence. 

There appear to be strange misapprehensions of 
moral principle in the minds of many of the members 
of our literary institutions. I have known young 
men who would have shrunk with instinctive abhor- 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 27 

rence from stealing private property ; who would 
have thought themselves permanently and deeply 
dishonoured, by injuring the dwelling, or invading 
the peace of a private family; who could, at the 
same time, without any feeling of self-reproach or 
shame, take out and bear oif, without permission, a 
book from a public library, and neglect to return it ; 
who could break or purloin a rare and valuable piece 
of philosophical apparatus ; deface or destroy the pro- 
perty of the college to which they were so much in- 
indebted, in a manner which if it were directed against 
their own property, they would feel justified in prose- 
cuting the invader to the penitentiary ; and, in short, 
act as if, by becoming pupils in a public institution, 
they became, in a sort, joint partners in all the property 
of the institution, and entitled to treat it as in a mea- 
sure their own, or with more reckless waste than they 
would their own. A more preposterous notion cannot 
be entertained by any mind. Recollect, I beseech 
you, that no part of the property of the college is 
yours. The whole of it is vested in a corporation — - 
the board of trustees — for a great public benefit. They 
permit you and your fellow students to enter, and en- 
joy the privileges of the institution. To prepare it 
for your beneficial use, they have toiled and laboured 
much, and gone to great expense, and are daily incur- 
ring large expenditures. So far from their being 
debtors to you, you are deep debtors to them ; and, 
therefore, when you injure or destroy their property, 
you add the gross sin of robbery to criminal ingrati- 
tude. You are guilty of a public wrong, involving, in 
some respects, a deeper moral turpitude than that 
which is of a private nature. 

For my part, when I see a young man in college 
disorderly in his habits, disobedient to law, labouring 
to deceive, and vex, and outwit his instructors, and 
injure the property of the institution, I have scarcely 
ever the least hope that he will make a decent or a 
useful man. I have carefully watched hundreds of 



28 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

this character, and have rarely found my augury of 
their fate falsified. Such young men have generally 
turned out disreputable members of society — drunk- 
ards, gamblers, swindlers, duelists ; and have been 
either in mercy to society cut off in their course, and 
consigned to an early grave ; or spared only to be 
a curse to the community, and a disgrace and an an- 
guish to all who took an interest in their welfare. 

It cannot be doubted, that, on this subject, parents 
are oftentimes quite as much, if not more to blame 
than their sons, who are chargeable with violating col- 
lege laws. Both parents and children, in many cases, 
seem to labour under the mistake, that students, and 
the members of the college faculty, by whom they are 
instructed and governed, are to be considered as stand- 
ing upon an equal footing, and that their intercourse 
ought to be that of independent gentlemen with each 
other. To illustrate this fact, I would refer you to a 
case which not long since occurred — not, I am happy 
to say, in the College of New Jersey, but in one of 
the distant colleges in our land. Three young men 
were sent to the institution in question, by their re- 
spective parents. In a short time after one of them 
had reached the college, he violated one of the laws, 
and was pointedly reproved by a professor. He im- 
mediately wrote to his father that the professor had 
insulted him. The father promptly answered thus: — 
" My son, go and purchase for yourself the largest cane 
in the town, and break it over the professor's head." 
The other two wrote to their father that after having 
tried the college for a few weeks, they were not pleased 
with it, and, without any permission, had removed to 
another college, and had taken lodgings in the best 
hotel in the place ! Of such young men no reasona- 
ble person would ever expect to hear any good. And 
it is certainly quite reasonable to add, that when such 
young men go to destruction, and disgrace their fami- 
lies, by far the largest amount of blame lies at the 
door of their parents. 



LETTER III. 



MANNERS. 



Non contemnenda, tanquam parva, sine quibus magna constare 
non possint. Jerome. 

My Dear Sons — It is remarked, by a good writer, 
that " the ancients began the education of their child- 
ren by forming their hearts and manners. They 
taught them the duty of men, and of citizens. We 
teach them the languages of the ancients, and leave 
their morals and manners to shift for themselves." 
Without pausing to examine either the justice, or the 
proper extent of this statement, it cannot be doubted 
that there is a measure of truth in it. It cannot be 
doubted that the majority of the youth of the present 
day, who have been trained in literature and science, 
manifest less modesty, less of the becoming spirit of 
subordination, less respect for age, less of gentle, 
docile, filial deference for superiors, than were com- 
mon in the days of our fathers. I trust that, in say- 
ing this, I shall not be set down as a prejudiced lau- 
dator temporis acti; as unreasonably yielding to the 
partiality of an old man for the days and habits of 
his youth. Fifty or sixty years ago, unless I am 
greatly deceived, the intercourse between the profes- 
sors and tutors of our colleges and their pupils, was 
considerably different from what it now is. There is 
less of sovereign, unquestioned, parental authority on 
the part of the former ; and much less of that implicit 
obedience on the part of the latter, and of those out- 
ward testimonials of respect and reverence which were 
3* ( 29 ) 



30 MANNERS. 

then deemed indispensable. In my early days, in 
several of the most respectable and popular colleges 
in our country, no student ever entered the public 
edifice in which he either lodged or recited without 
taking off his hat : nor did he ever allow himself to 
come within a number of feet of any officer of the 
college, either within doors or in the open air, without 
uncovering his head. The approach of such an officer 
would, then, instantly command silence and perfect 
decorum. Is it so now ? and is the alteration for the 
better or the worse ? If there were in the old habits 
of some of our colleges an air of formal servility, is 
there not, at present, too often an air of disrespect 
and insolent boorishness ? Surely this ought not to 
be so. When our country is growing every day in 
wealth, in literature, and certainly in some species of 
refinement, our youth ought to be growing in all that 
is calculated to distinguish and adorn intellectual and 
moral culture, and to exhibit them as worthy of the 
advantages under which they are placed. 

It appears to me that many young men in college 
labour under an entire mistake in regard to the mo- 
tives which ought to influence them in regulating their 
manners. They seem to think that, unless they have 
a sincere personal respect for the individuals or bodies 
with whom they are called to have intercourse, they 
may, without any discredit to themselves, indulge in 
behaviour which, in other circumstances, would be 
liable to the charge of rudeness. But a little reflec- 
tion cannot fail of convincing any sober mind that 
this is a great error. For, in the first place, we are 
bound, upon every principle, to treat with deference 
and respect those who are set over us in authority, what- 
ever may be our estimate of their personal character. 
Their office is worthy of respect, even if their persons 
be not. But, independently of this consideration, 
which, to every thinking mind, is conclusive, we are, 
in the second place, bound thus to conduct ourselves, 
upon the principle of self-respect. When any one 



MANNERS. 31 

treats with rudeness those whom he is bound officially 
to obey, he may flatter himself that he is displaying 
his spirit, and manifesting elevation of character ; but, 
instead of this, he is only displaying his own vulgarity 
and ignorance of the world, and manifesting that he 
is no gentleman, whatever claim to that title he may 
imagine himself to possess. One of the most perfect 
models of good-breeding that I ever saw in my life, 
was accustomed to overcome the incivility of the rude, 
by the most entire respectfulness of manner on his 
part. I have known him to disarm even brutality 
itself, by returning the strictest politeness to the most 
ruffian insolence. 

Let me earnestly entreat you, then, to be careful — 
constantly and vigilantly careful of your manners to 
all, but especially to three classes of persons. 

1. To all the members of the faculty of the college. 
These gentlemen are officially set over you ; and, by 
entering the college, you have voluntarily come under 
a virtual engagement to submit to their authority, and 
to honour their persons. The supposition is, that they 
are all well qualified for their office, and are personally 
deserving of your highest respect. But whether this 
be so or not, there is but one course for you — and that 
is, to conform to the spirit of the laws, and ever to 
treat them as if they were perfectly worthy of venera- 
tion, as well as obedience. He who is disrespectful to 
his teachers, dishonours himself more than them. If, 
therefore, I had no regard to anything but your own 
reputation, I would say, pay them unceasing and vigi 
lant respect. Treat them all — from the president 
down to the youngest tutor — with scrupulous decorum 
and politeness. Never accost them, or pass them, 
whether in the public edifice, in the campus, or in the 
street, without lifting, or, at least, touching the hat. 
Never speak to them, but with the tone and manner 
appropriate to one who is addressing a superior. This 
testimonial of respect is everywhere dictated by the 
most obvious sense of propriety ; and is really as much 



32 MANNERS. 

due to yourselves, as claiming to be well-bred young 
gentlemen, as it is to the official personage to whom it 
is directed. Indeed I never allow myself to enter an 
inhabited house, whatever may be the rank or the 
social position of its inmates, without taking off my hat. 
I should certainly expect them to do so in my own 
house, and I would not be behind them in politeness. 

I have often been amazed to see young men, who 
laid claim to the title of gentlemen, enter rooms in 
which the president, or some other officer of college, was 
seated or standing, and keep on their hats until they 
had passed, perhaps, immediately by the chair of such 
officer, over the whole length of the apartment to a 
seat at its remote end, and there slowly remove them ; 
sometimes after being seated themselves, and with an 
air as if they scarcely thought it worth while to take 
them off even then. I never see this without confi- 
dently taking for granted that young men who can so 
conduct themselves, are grossly ignorant of the world, 
and, whatever else may have belonged to their history, 
have had a very vulgar breeding. They dishonour 
themselves far more than they dishonour the objects 
of this rudeness. 

I have been sometimes little less disgusted to see 
young men, the children of respectable parents, and 
who ought to have been taught better, rising, when 
questioned at a recitation, or an examination, and an- 
swering with an air and manner becoming those who 
felt themselves superior to their examiners, and who 
wished to testify how little respect they felt for them. 
Such things evince as much the lack of good breeding 
as of good sense ; and instead of manifesting that man- 
liness, independence, and elevation of character which 
are intended to be displayed, are rather disgusting 
testimonies of ignorance and boyish self-consequence. 

Another practice, which I have observed with pain 
among students of college, in their recitation rooms, 
and in other similar situations, in the presence of their 
instructors, is their disrespectful mode of sitting. I 



MANNERS. 33 

mean sitting with their feet lifted up, on the top of an 
opposite bench or chair, and stretched out in the ma- 
gisterial manner of a master among his menials, or of 
a boon companion lounging among his equals. No 
truly well bred person ever allows himself to sit in this 
manner in the presence of his superiors, or even of his 
equals, unless they are his daily and hourly associates. 
Would not any young man, who had enjoyed a training 
above the grossly vulgar, be shocked to see an attitude 
of this kind assumed by any one in a decent circle in 
a parlour ? Surely in the presence of his official supe- 
riors he ought to be quite as particular. I lay claim 
to no special delicacy or refinement in my early train- 
ing ; but truth requires me to say, that, such as it was, 
if I had been ever seen to sit in the presence of my 
parents, or of any decent company, as I have often 
seen members of college sitting in the presence of their 
instructors, I should have met with a prompt and 
severe rebuke. 

Imagine to yourselves the deportment which you 
ought ever to exhibit toward beloved and venerated 
parents, in yielding prompt obedience to all their com- 
mands, and showing by every word, and look, and tone, 
and gesture, that you wished to treat them with per- 
fect respect; picture to yourselves this deportment, 
and you have the model of that which I earnestly de- 
sire my sons ever to display toward their official in- 
structors. In giving this counsel, as I remarked in a 
preceding letter, you cannot suspect me of a desire to 
cultivate in my children a spirit of servility ; on the 
contrary, my earnest desire is, that they should ever 
cultivate those manly and elevated sentiments which 
evince true magnanimity of spirit, and prepare for the 
most honourable course of action. And, truly, you were 
never more mistaken, if you suppose that the manifesta- 
tion of perfect reverence and docility toward your in- 
structors, indicates any other than a spirit of real dignity 
and independence. Here the path of perfect obedience 
is the only path to perfect freedom and honour. 



34 MANNERS. 

It is, perhaps, as proper to notice under this head, as 
anywhere else, a piece of ill manners which I have seen 
displayed in a certain collegiate institution, to my great 
disgust and annoyance. I mean the exhibition of a 
cigar in the mouth of a student in a public procession, 
while he was puffing his smoke in the face of all who ap- 
proached or passed him. There is such a concentra- 
tion of vulgarity and offensiveness in this thing, that I 
know not how to speak of it in terms of adequate 
reprobation. Few practices are more frequently con- 
nected with rustic and disagreeable manners, and offen- 
sive habits of various kinds, than the use of tobacco 
in any way. But to see a student sporting a cigar in 
a college procession, argues such a total want of de- 
corum and refinement, as ought never to be seen in 
civilized society. Indeed, such an exhibition is an 
outrage on good manners, that I should be ashamed 
to speak of, had I not with my own eyes seen it — 
not in a public street or campus merely, but in one of 
the entries of a college edifice, and that on an occasion 
on which I was not a little mortified, that so many 
strangers should have an opportunity of seeing a fact 
so disreputable to the state of manners in a literary 
institution. 

Of the various habits commonly connected with the 
free use of tobacco one ought not to pass unnoticed 
here, when speaking of good manners. I refer par- 
ticularly to the vulgar and disgusting practice of spit- 
ting profusely on the floors around the offender, and 
running the risk of bespattering every individual in 
his neighbourhood. I have known young men in the 
apartments of a college, w T hen I was sitting beside 
them, smell so strongly of tobacco smoke as to be 
scarcely endurable, and at the same time squirting their 
tobacco juice around them in such quantities, and with 
so little delicacy, that I had no alternative but either 
to change my seat, or to have my stomach turned. I 
preferred the former. But how shameful for any one 



MANNERS. 35 

who calls himself a gentleman to subject those who 
approach him to so severe a tax ! 

The truth is, when I see a student parading the 
streets with a cigar in his mouth, and manifesting a 
devoted attachment to the use of tobacco, I am pretty 
much in the habit of giving up all hope of his future 
respectability and honour. I consider him as the slave 
of an indulgence, which I have seen betray so many 
into the most degrading intemperance, and so many 
others into incurable ill health, that I cannot help re- 
garding the devotee to this practice as eminently in 
danger of being lost to all that is honourable and 
good. But more of this hereafter. 

2. Be attentive to your manners in all your inter- 
course with your fellow students. No one can depend 
on his deportment being such as it ought to be on special 
occasions, when he meets his superiors, unless he is 
careful to form correct habits in this respect, in his in- 
tercourse with all. Hence wise counsellors tell us, that 
if we desire to succeed in making healthful and grace- 
ful postures natural to us, we must take care to maintain 
them in our private apartments, and in our habitual 
and every-day attitudes. Not only on this account, but 
also for the purpose of promoting pleasant and profita^ 
ble intercourse with your fellow students, I would 
earnestly exhort you to be pointedly attentive to your 
manners, even amidst all the unceremonious freedom 
of daily and hourly communication with your equals. 
It would, indeed, border on the ridiculous, in inter- 
course with fellow students, to adhere to all the punc- 
tilious forms of etiquette, which ought to be observed in 
regard to strangers and superiors ; but still, even with 
class-mates and room-mates, there may be unwise free- 
doms, and disgusting coarseness, which ought to be 
carefully avoided by all who would derive the greatest 
advantage from the society of their fellows. 

In framing a general code of manners for regulating 
intercourse with fellow students, the great difficulty is 
to avoid such details as would be tedious, and at the 



36 MANNERS. 

same time to go into particulars sufficiently to furnish 
an adequate guide for most practical occasions. I shall 
endeavour to pursue such a middle course as to make 
my counsels intelligible, and adapted to the occurrences 
of every day, without being unduly minute. 

Remember, then, if you desire to be regarded by 
every fellow student with good will and respect, to 
avoid everything that is adapted to wound or irritate 
feelings. The language of ridicule, of sneer, of sar- 
casm, of harsh censure, can never be uttered, even to 
your most intimate companion, without producing more 
or less alienation. A rough tone, a contemptuous look, 
a disrespectful epithet or insinuation, seldom fails to 
leave an impression, which, though not openly resented 
at the moment, is not easily effaced. I have known 
such impressions to last for years, and him who received 
them to complain, that, though retaining them was con- 
trary to his own better judgment, he was unable to dis- 
miss them from his mind. If a fellow student be of 
such a temper or character that you wish to avoid all 
intercourse with him, let not your deportment, unless 
in very extreme and extraordinary cases, be that of 
haughty contempt, of scorn, or of open reproach, which 
might naturally lead to collision and violence ; a col- 
lision and violence always to be deprecated in propor- 
tion to the evil character of the individual desired to 
be avoided. Many a youth, under the impulse of a 
generous and high-minded abhorrence of vice, has in- 
considerately testified that abhorrence in a way which 
has unnecessarily drawn upon him the bitter resentment 
and brutal violence of a ruffian, which might easily have 
been avoided without any unfaithfulness to the cause 
of virtue. The aim of a young person, to avoid giving 
countenance to vice, may be much more appropriately 
and happily gained, by a deportment of dignified re- 
serve, of quiet and silent but firm withdrawment from 
all communication. 

But in regard to those fellow students who do not, 
by either folly or vice, render all comfortable inter- 



MANNERS. 37 

course' with them impracticable, make a point of main- 
taining, toward them all, a deportment respectful, 
kind, and conciliatory. You will, of course, be more 
intimate with some than with others. Nay, I would 
strongly advise you to be really intimate with very 
few. But for such intimacy I hope you will not fail 
to select the best scholars, and the most polished, pure, 
and honourable of the whole number ; those whose 
talents and acquirements will render their society pro- 
fitable, and whose moral correctness will render them 
safe associates. But while you do this, try to establish, 
with all, the character of perfect gentlemen, and young 
men of strict honour. Avoid all lofty airs ; all repul- 
sive looks, gestures, and language in addressing them. 
Be ready to oblige, affable and accommodating to 
every one. You will find a number of students in the 
college, and perhaps some among your classmates, 
whose parents are known to be in straitened circum- 
stances, and who manifest by their strict economy, 
their plain dress, and by all their habits, that they are 
poor. Let me charge you never to be guilty of the 
weakness of undervaluing such, merely on account of 
their poverty, and preferring to associate with the 
children of the rich, merely on account of their fancied 
superior rank. There is a littleness and a folly in 
such estimates, of which I hope my children will never 
be guilty. Respect and treat every student according 
to his personal worth, not according to his purse. 
Recollect that, a few years hence, the youth, the scan- 
tiness of whose finances kept him modest and sober- 
minded, may be found to have far outstripped in 
learning, in wisdom, in virtue, and true elevation in 
society, the son of the proudest nabob, who, on ac- 
count of his well-lined pocket, proved a miserable 
scholar, and an ignoble profligate. 

3. I have only to add, that it is of more importance 

than is commonly supposed, for college students to 

maintain becoming manners toward the inhabitants 

of the town when called to have intercourse with them. 

4 



38 MANNERS. 

The readiness of college students to quarrel with the 
townspeople in the midst of whom they live, is an old 
occurrence, to which there is a continual tendency, 
and of which the consequences are as mischievous as 
they are painful. The pride and folly of students are 
apt to take the alarm where! no insult or injury was 
intended ; and the morbid and ridiculous sensibility 
of townspeople frequently leads them seriously to re- 
sent that which ought to have been overlooked as an 
effusion of childish weakness. In how many instances 
has this miserable folly led to conflicts and violence, of 
which all parties had reason to be ashamed ! 

My desire, my dear sons, and my earnest advice is, 
that in moving about through the village in which your 
college is placed, and in all your occasional intercourse 
with its inhabitants, you manifest all the decorum and 
delicacy of young gentlemen, who have too much self- 
respect to violate the feelings of others ; and too much 
regard to what is due to every fellow-creature to allow 
of your indulging caprice, or selfishness, or ill-humour, 
at their expense. When you pass either boys or 
adults in the street, let no indication of either con- 
tempt or hostile feeling escape you. If any feeling 
of that kind is manifested on their part, do not permit 
yourselves, in ordinary circumstances, to understand 
or to notice it. Instead of its being manly to resent, 
or to chastise the petty insolence of such people, it is 
rather the part of wayward children, who, by such 
conduct, expose their own weakness and ignorance of 
the world, rather than the ill conduct of others. I 
have never known a fracas to occur, as it is commonly 
expressed, between college students and town-boys, 
however ill the latter may have behaved, without find- 
ing occasion to throw nine-tenths of the blame on the 
former. Young men of cultivated minds and polished 
habits ought to have too much discernment, and too 
much consideration, to plunge headlong into a conflict 
from which neither credit nor profit can possibly be 
derived; from which, even if they are victorious, 



MANNERS. 39 

nothing but disgrace can result. What though town- 
boys a^dopt the opinion, that the students of college 
are unwilling to fight with them ? What though they 
think and say, that they are either too proud or too 
cowardly to enter the lists with them ? What harm 
can such imputations do you ? Is it not better to bear 
them in silence, when it is evident that your character 
cannot be materially affected by them, than to engage 
in a contest of fisticuffs with those who are reckless of 
consequences ; to be rolled in the dust ; to have your 
garments torn from your backs ; and to retire from 
the contest with black eyes, and bloody noses, and 
perhaps the loss of limb, or even life to some ; and 
after all, with the miserable consolation that you have 
finally gained a victory, from which no honour can pos- 
sibly be derived, but, on the contrary, it may be, many 
a painful memorial lasting as life ? 

If you desire wholly to avoid such dishonourable 
conflicts, you must carefully avoid everything which 
can possibly lead to them. " The prudent man," says 
Solomon, " foreseeth the evil and hideth himself, but 
the simple pass on and are punished. 5 ' A very small 
amount of discretion will be sufficient to put you on 
your guard against all those modes of treating the 
people of the town, whether young or old, which will 
be apt to draw upon you their dislike, or excite them 
to particular acts of personal disrespect or violence. 
Whether you enter the store of the merchant, the shop 
of the mechanic, or the hotel of the publican ; whether 
you encounter the townsman in the social circle, or his 
children or apprentices in the street, let nothing ap- 
proaching to the offensive escape you toward any of 
them. If any mechanic should either do your work 
badly, or overreach you in his charges, or in any way 
treat you ill, I hope you will never think of quarrel- 
ling with him, or assailing him with abusive language ; 
but simply of withdrawing from him, and never again 
putting yourselves in his power. And so if any word, or 
look, or gesture of insolent character should be shown 



40 MANNERS. 

by any of the townspeople, young or old, do not ap- 
pear to notice it. Turn away, and try to avoid com- 
ing in contact with them again. Reject with scorn, as 
a dictate at once of sin and folly, the maxim so often 
in the mouth of youthful inexperience — " that it is 
dastardly to take an uncivil word or look from any one 
without resenting it." He who acts upon this maxim 
may always expect to have a sufficient number of 
quarrels and broils on his hands ; and, in fact, to be 
at the mercy of every ruffian who wishes to involve 
him in a disreputable conflict. 

I have sometimes seen young men in " Nassau 
Hall," whose manners in all the respects which I have 
mentioned, were worthy of being regarded as a model 
for your imitation. I wish it were in my power to 
hold them up to your view, with all the bright and 
graphic clearness with which their personal deport- 
ment was invested. I will try to set before you the 
example of one of their number, which will never be 
effaced from my memory, and which I could wish 
might be indelibly impressed upon yours. 

The youth to whom I refer, was the son of respecta- 
ble parents, in very moderate, and indeed rather strait- 
ened circumstances. He was, of course, altogether 
unable to indulge in large expenditures, and was 
obliged to exercise the strictest economy in dress, and 
in all his habits. He was not at all distinguished as a 
genius, but he had a good mind ; was indefatigably 
diligent in study ; was a good scholar, and maintained 
an honourable standing in his class. But his deport- 
ment as a member of the college, was above all praise. 
Though he was no way related to me, yet I had much 
opportunity of being acquainted with his character 
and course. And I never heard of his infringing the 
smallest law of the institution, or incurring the re- 
motest frown from any member of the faculty. Whe- 
ther in the lecture-room or the prayer-hall, in the 
refectory or the campus, his manners were those of 
the perfect gentleman. He was no tale-bearer. He 



MANNERS. 41 

was no supercilious censor. The strictest integrity, 
delicacy and honour were manifest in all his inter- 
course. The law of kindness and of respectfulness 
ever dwelt upon his tongue, and marked all his de- 
portment. A profane or uncivil word, during the 
whole three years that he spent in Princeton, was, 
probably, never heard to escape from his lips. All 
his fellow students loved him ; for I doubt whether, 
in his treatment of any one of them, he ever departed 
from the most perfect urbanity. He was never heard 
to call any of them by an offensive nickname. He 
never allowed himself to refer to events or circum- 
stances adapted to give any one pain. His deport- 
ment toward the very servants of the college, was 
always such as to conciliate their respect, and even 
their affection. He was at the greatest remove from 
being chargeable with smiling on vice ; and yet his op- 
position to it was maintained, rather by standing aloof 
from the vicious, and refraining from all fellowship 
with the works of darkness, than by positive reproof, 
or acrimonious censure. Even those whose company 
he avoided never complained of his deportment as un- 
civil. It was marked by no offensive demeanour, but 
by mere abstinence from their society. The very 
worst of his fellow-students respected him, and " had 
no evil thing to say of him;" and when engaged in 
schemes of mischief, were almost as anxious to conceal 
them from him as from the members of the faculty. 
It is hardly necessary to add, that during his whole 
course in the institution, he was never once involved 
in a scrape or quarrel with an associate, or gave any 
one even a pretext for assailing him. 

When this exemplary young man moved about among 
the people of the town, the same inoffensive and per- 
fectly popular manners marked all his conduct. His 
treatment of every mechanic whom he employed ; of 
every servant who waited on him, or accosted him ; of 
every child in the street, was ever so distinguished by 
kindness and affability, that he was a favourite among 
4* 



42 MANNERS. 

them all. He was so far from ever involving himself 
in broils or disputes with the rudest of their number, 
that his approach seemed to be greeted with pleasure 
wherever he went. When he came to be graduated, 
his place on the list of honours was quite as high as he 
deserved, because everybody loved and delighted to 
do him honour. And when he returned to the vil- 
lage, from time to time, for a number of years after 
he had left it, he was hailed by all, from the highest 
to the lowest, as a respected friend. 

If I could cherish the hope, my dear sons, that you 
would walk in the steps of this admirable youth, and 
leave the institution with which it is your privilege to 
be connected, with a character like his, my highest 
wishes, as to this point, would be gratified. And why 
may you not ? Are you not sensible that the manners 
which I have described, are precisely those which would 
carry you through life with popularity and honour? 
And do you not know that, if you wish to attain such 
manners, you cannot begin too early to cultivate them ; 
and that those which you carry with you from college 
will be apt to follow you through life ? 

I have as yet said nothing of the use of profane lan- 
guage in common conversation, as belonging to the 
subject of manners. As you have been taught, from 
your childhood, to abhor the language of profaneness, 
as a sin against God, I trust there is no need of my 
enlarging on this point. But I wish you to remember 
that, independently of the offence against the Majesty 
of heaven, which ought to be and will be decisive with 
every mind not thoroughly impious, the use of such 
language is as gross an offence against good breeding 
as it is against the law of God. There is no principle 
of good manners more self-evident, or more generally 
admitted than this, that in social intercourse we ought 
to avoid everything adapted to give pain to those with 
whom we converse. Now, can it be doubted that there 
are many, very many with whom we are called daily to 
converse, who are. sincerely grieved, nay, offended 



MANNERS. 43 

when they hear "the name of God taken in vain," or 
- any form of profane speech indulged in their presence? 
Their sense of propriety is outraged, and their moral 
feelings painfully invaded by every expression of this 
nature. Is it the part of a gentleman to allow himself 
to do this ? I apprehend that every man of common 
sense and common decency will emphatically say, No. 
And yet how strange is it that many, who would be 
astonished and offended to hear their claim to the 
character of gentlemen called in question, at the same 
time, do not scruple every day to wound the feelings 
of those with whom they converse, with language which, 
if it be not grossly blasphemous, is such as is adapted 
to give pain to the pious, if not to the decently moral 
hearer. 

If these sentiments be just, what shall be said of that 
young man who, when he sees a clergyman, or other 
well known professor of religion, approaching him, 
within a few feet, or immediately after having passed 
him a similar distance, is heard to blurt out so loudly 
as to insure its being audible, the most profane or other- 
wise indecent language ? This is not merely impious — - 
it is brutal ; and those who can be guilty of it, ought to 
be abhorred as well as despised. 

The practice which I have sometimes known to be 
indulged in colleges, of turning particular students 
into ridicule, by repeating disrespectful nicknames, or 
by satirizing certain peculiarities or characteristics, is 
certainly an infringement of those good manners which 
ought to be cultivated in every literary institution. 
Suppose a gentleman in common life were called upon 
to be frequently in the company of a respectable Jew, 
or a person who had lost an eye, or who, on account 
of lameness, moved about on crutches, what would be 
thought of him, if he were continually to address these 
persons respectively by nicknames, reminding each of 
his peculiarity ? Suppose he were always to call the 
first, whenever he spoke to him, " Israelite ;" the 
second, "Blinkard;" and the third, " Crutch j" would 



44 MANNERS. 

he be considered as a man of good manners ? Yet an 
offence against good manners in this respect is one of 
the most common faults in all the colleges I have ever 
known. I once knew a respectable and promising 
young Jew, who entered one of our colleges. His 
talents were good, his temper amiable, and his manners 
of the most inoffensive kind. Yet he was so continually 
twitted by a few — I am happy to say it was by a very 
few, of the coarse, vulgar young men around him — by 
various forms of ridicule, that the residence of a few 
weeks convinced him that he could not longer remain 
with comfort a member of the institution. He was 
withdrawn ; and was prevented from ever passing 
through any college. How disgraceful as well as inju- 
rious is such conduct on the part of young men, esti- 
mating the value of, and seeking to obtain, a liberal 
education, and claiming the character of gentlemen! 

And must all the principles of decorum and delicacy 
be set aside for the sake of giving leave to coarse young 
men, whenever an unfortunate companion approaches 
them, to remind him of his infirmity by a ludicrous or 
contemptuous nickname ? It would be outrageous in 
the walks of decent life. Ought it to be deemed other- 
wise in college life, where decorum and refinement 
ought to hold a sacred reign ? 

My dear sons, there is more, after all, in the effi- 
cacy of manners, than I can tell you in one short let- 
ter. If it be true, as has been sometimes said, that 
"a good face is an open letter of recommendation,' ' 
it is equally true that there is a magic in pleasant 
manners, which scarcely anything can resist. They 
can cover a multitude of defects ; and they have a 
thousand times done more for men than all their sub- 
stantial qualities put together. The youth who under- 
values or neglects them, whatever other advantages he 
may possess, is under a miserable delusion. 

I have dwelt so long on this subject that I fear you 
will begin to think it an intricate one, and imagine 
that tolerable skill in this matter will be of difficult 



MANNERS. 45 

attainment. If this be the case you greatly mistake. 
I grant, indeed, that the conventional habits of courtly 
society are not to be acquired at once by the inex- 
perienced youth. Much intercourse with the polite 
world and close observation are indispensable to fami- 
liarity and skill in these matters. But the cultivation 
and attainment of those manners for which I now 
plead, is a simple and easy thing. Let the most youth- 
ful student who can be expected to be found within 
the walls of a college, only possess good sense, true 
benevolence, and, of course, an unwillingness to give 
pain to any one, and a sincere desire to make all 
around him happy ; let him be affable, good-tempered, 
and desirous of pleasing all around him. Suppose 
him to possess these simple elements of moral cha- 
racter, and nothing more will be necessary to make 
him an inoffensive and pleasant companion in a literary 
institution, or in any part of the world. 



LETTER IV, 



MORALS. 



"Qui proficit in Uteris, et deficit in moribus, non proficit, sed 
deficit/' Oecolampadius. 

" The excesses of our youth are drafts upon our old age, pay- 
able, with interest, about thirty years after date." Lacox I. 76. 

My Dear Sons — The disposition to prefer intel- 
lectual to moral reputation is deplorably prevalent in 
seminaries of learning. Many an ambitious youth, if 
he could establish a character for distinguished genius 
and scholarship, would be quite content to lie under 
the imputation of moral delinquency. Or, at least, if 
he must be defective in either, he would decisively 
choose that it should be in regard to moral purity. I 
need not say, that this preference is an instance of 
deplorable infatuation. It is as much opposed to com- 
mon sense as it is to the word of God. And it is of 
the utmost importance that the minds of youth be 
early imbued with sentiments adapted to its correction. 

I am aware that many sober thinkers are opposed 
to the consideration of this subject apart from religion. 
They insist that what is called moral philosophy, is a 
mere system of refined infidelity ; that pure morals 
cannot be hoped for, and ought not to be inculcated, 
apart from pure, evangelical religion ; and that all 
attempts to promote them on any other principles, 
is an attempt to " gather grapes of thorns and figs of 
thistles." I am by no means able to concur in this 
opinion, especially in all its extent. I acknowledge, 
indeed, that the Bible is the only infallible and per- 

(46) 



MORALS. 47 

fectly pure teacher of morals. I acknowledge, too, 
that nothing can be relied on, either for the attainment 
or the maintenance of sound morality, but the religion 
of Jesus Christ, sincerely believed and embraced as a 
practical system. He who expects strict moral principle 
to hold a consistent and steady reign in the heart of any 
man who is not a real Christian, will infallibly be disap- 
pointed. Yet I should not be willing to say, that duty 
ought in no case to be inculcated by any other argu- 
ments than those drawn from the gospel. I should 
more than hesitate to assert, that lying, and theft, and 
fraud, and drunkenness, and impurity, and gambling 
ought never to be prohibited by reasonings which the 
infidel might not be made to feel, as well as the 
Christian. These sins, indeed, ought always to be 
denounced as forbidden in the word of God ; as 
objects of his righteous displeasure; as contrary to the 
spirit and will of Christ ; and as wholly inconsistent 
with the Christian character. But may they not — 
ought they not to be made to appear vile and hateful, 
even in the eyes of the sceptic and atheist? Is it 
wrong to tell men that there are crimes against the 
community, as well as against God ; that the practice 
of them is unreasonable, injurious to all the interests 
of the individual and of society, unfriendly to health, 
to peace of mind, to the principles of justice, bene- 
volence and truth ; in short, to hold up to view their 
mischievous and odious character by representations, 
which the rejecter of revelation, no less than the pro- 
fessed believer, will see to be conclusive ? The moral 
philosopher may indeed be an infidel. When he is so, 
it is to be deplored. He is shorn of a large part of 
his strength. Still he has a number of weapons left, 
which are not without their value and their convincing 
power, even to a brother in unbelief. He may, with 
great propriety, tell those who listen to him, that the 
crimes above specified are hurtful to himself, to his 
intellect, to his physical frame, to his reputation, to 
his influence in society, to his children, to the com- 



48 MORALS* 

munity at large. This is moral philosophy. Its best 
armoury, no doubt, is the Bible ; but, at the same time, 
it is not without weapons which those who reject the 
Bible may feel and be benefited by. 

The object of this letter, my dear sons, is to con- 
vince you that good morals are indispensable to the 
safety, health, happiness, and true welfare of all, in 
every walk of life ; and, therefore, that those who are 
preparing to live by the acquirement of an education, 
and by professional character, ought to make their 
moral culture an object of primary and unceasing at- 
tention. A man without genius, without eminent tal- 
ents, may be both useful and happy. With barely de- 
cent powers of mind, if he be honest, sober, industri- 
ous, and prudent, he may be beloved, respected and 
highly useful ; may " serve his generation by the will 
of God/' and leave a name behind him of unspeakably 
more value than great riches. But however transcen- 
dent his talents, if he be a liar, intemperate, dishonest, 
or licentious, he will, of course, be despised by the wise 
and the good, and no degree of patronage can give 
him an honourable standing in society. In fact, no 
one without a fair moral character can hope to rise in 
the world ; and the more firm and fixed that character, 
the more precious a treasure it will be found, whatever 
may be our lot in life. 

Need I tell you, for example, how fatal intemperance 
is to the body, to the mind, to reputation, to all pro- 
fessional respectability and success ? Need I attempt 
to set before you the melancholy picture, so often pre- 
sented to the public view, of talents degraded, of health 
undermined and ruined, of property squandered, of 
families prostrated by this fell destroyer ? Who that 
has seen so many of the deplorable triumphs of strong 
drink over all the best interests of man for time and 
eternity, can hold his peace, or forbear to proclaim to 
every young man, " Fly, — fly from this arch-foe to 
human happiness ! Let nothing tempt you to touch or 
taste the fatal cup. There is death in it. Your only 



MORALS. 49 

safety is in total abstinence from the stimulus of strong 
drink in every form. If you allow yourself to taste it 
at all, there is too much reason to fear that it will be- 
come your master, and prove your ruin." When I hear 
of a young man that he has a fondness for strong drink, 
and has been seen under the power of intoxication, I 
instinctively give him up as lost, and abandon all hope 
of ever seeing him either respectable or useful. There 
is no sin which more directly tends to secure its own 
continuance and increase, or which more infallibly pro- 
duces the wreck of all human prosperity. What though 
the deluded youth intends only to indulge to a small 
extent, and to avoid habitual excess ? What though 
he abhors the character of the drunkard, and is firmly 
determined to stop long before he reaches the drunk- 
ard's dishonour ? Does he not know that there is not 
the least reason to rely upon his own resolution, how- 
ever sincere at the time, and that he who parleys with 
the tempter is probably lost ? 

No less fatal to the true honour and happiness of a 
young man is the want of integrity. What though he 
had all the talents and all the scholarship that ever fell 
to the lot of a mortal ? Yet if he were known to be 
regardless of truth, to be destitute of honesty and 
honour in the intercourse of society, — who would re- 
spect him? who could avoid instinctively despising 
him ? Who would think of employing or trusting him 
in matters of weight and importance ? Even the worst 
of his classmates would turn away from him with con- 
tempt and abhorrence, as unworthy of confidence in 
anything. And in regard to his future profession and 
prospects, what could be more hopeless ? It cannot be 
supposed that such a young man would seek the office 
of a minister of the gospel ; from that the common 
consent of all would, of course, exclude him. But 
what other profession could he safely or honourably 
fill ? None. In none could he obtain public esteem. 
In none could he succeed, either as to emolument or 
confidence. A sort of honour even among thieves is 
5 



50 MOKALS. 

indispensable to that standing with his comrades, which 
even the occupant of such a wretched position desires 
to maintain. 

Nothing is more directly adapted to secure to any 
young man the highest respect and honour among his 
companions, than an established character for invinci- 
ble veracity ; a reputation for integrity, honour, and 
faithfulness, which nothing can shake, nothing assail. 
I have known students, by no means remarkable for 
either talents or scholarship, who, on account of these 
qualities, enjoyed the esteem and confidence of their 
fellows to a most enviable degree ; who were always 
selected where delicate and confidential services were 
to be performed ; and who w r ere remembered to the 
close of life for this proverbial candour and truth. My 
dear sons, let me have the pleasure of knowing that 
you sustain such a character among your classmates 
and companions ; that the mention of your name is a 
pledge, with all who know you, that you w T ould rather 
die than be found guilty of prevarication or falsehood 
in the minutest matter. 

The same deplorable results must ensue to that 
youth, who allows himself in college to imbibe the 
spirit and form the habits of a gambler. The founda- 
tion of this vice is often laid within the college walls ; 
and I need not say that there is scarcely any vice more 
directly adapted to " take away the heart," to fasci- 
nate the mind, to engross the attention, and to destroy 
him who yields to it, for both worlds. Like many other 
vices it begins on a small scale. The youthful votary 
never dreams in the outset, of going far, or adventur- 
ing much. But the fascination and the fever gradu- 
ally gain upon him. From one step to another he is 
led on, until ruin, despair, and perhaps suicide, close 
his career. 

Further ; the use of profane language may be num- 
bered among those immoral practices which disgrace 
literary institutions, and exert a mischievous influence 
wherever indulged. God has forbidden us to take his 



MORALS. 51 

holy name in vain, and has declared that he "will not 
hold him guiltless" who violates this command. Now, 
we may be always said to take the name of God in 
vain when we pronounce it in a light and irreverent 
manner, and, above all, when profane oaths and im- 
precations, and the language of blasphemy, escape our 
lips. This sin is invested w T ith so many hateful char- 
acteristics, that it is truly wonderful that any one who 
lays claim to culture or decency should ever be heard 
to indulge it. It marks a spirit of high-handed im- 
piety. It tends to excite and encourage a similar spirit 
in others. It is deeply offensive and grievous to all 
who fear God, and reverence his word ; and is, of 
course, a species of ill manners of the most vulgar 
character, of which every one who professes to be a 
gentleman ought to be deeply ashamed. Surely such 
language ought to be left to those who not only despise 
God and his law, but who also set at naught all that 
decorum which marks the intercourse of the well edu- 
cated and polished portion of the community. 

I shall only notice particularly one more vice, which 
has been the source of more injury and degradation to 
promising young men, than any statements or estimate 
of mine can adequately portray. I mean the licen- 
tiousness of the libertine in regard to the other sex. 
It is not easy to speak of this subject without such an 
offence against delicacy as is revolting to virtuous minds. 
Still truth must be stated, and warning given to those 
who have not closed their ears against all the dictates 
of wisdom. There is no doubt that the illicit inter- 
course of the sexes is the source of immeasurable mis- 
ery, shame and ruin ; not merely to females, destroyed 
by seducers, but also to the seducers themselves, and to 
all who are involved in their destiny. However lightly 
this sin may be considered by the licentious, unprin- 
cipled young man, there is, perhaps, no sin connected 
with more multiform and deplorable evils. It is not 
only a violation of the holy law of God, which denoun- 
ces against it his wrath and curse, but it is productive 



52 MORALS. 

of countless miseries in tlie present life of the most 
awful kind. It pollutes the mind. It hardens the 
heart. It corrupts the whole moral character. It in- 
flicts on society heavy and complicated injuries. It 
destroys the peace of families. It entails infamy and 
misery on posterity. I have known a number of young 
men, otherwise of high promise, who, by a single un- 
hallowed connection of this kind, have drawn a dark 
cloud over all their subsequent course; have found 
themselves embarrassed and depressed at every at- 
tempt to gain a respectable place in society ; entirely 
cut off from the associations and the honours which 
they might otherwise have gained ; and avoided by all 
decent people — and especially by those w T ho have regu- 
lar and orderly families, as persons whose touch is pol- 
lution. 

I would say, then, to you, my sons, and to every 
youth in whom I felt a special interest, Turn away 
from this sin, and from everything which leads to it, 
as you w T ould from a cup of poison, or from the assas- 
sin's dagger. If you desire to avoid becoming its vic- 
tims, never allow yourselves to parley with, but fly from 
it. Here he who deliberates is lost. One transgression, 
as in the case of the drunkard's cup, may lead to 
another, and another, until the chains of iniquity are 
riveted around you, and the destruction of your char- 
acter, and of all your prospects in life, is for ever sealed. 
If you wish to avoid the entanglements and disgrace 
which have entailed infamy and misery on thousands ; 
if you w T ould preserve a character unspotted, and do 
nothing to interfere with your enjoyment of that pure 
and happy conjugal connection, which it ought to be the 
desire and sacred ambition of every young man to form, 
as one of the noblest institutions of heaven, and, like 
the sabbath and the gospel, adapted to shed countless 
blessings on individuals and the world ; — then keep your- 
selves pure from this sin, and sacredly avoid everything 
which may serve as an incentive to so great an evil. 

But I will not multiply particulars further. I hope 



MORALS. 5S 

you are convinced, my dear sons, that every form of 
immorality is as unfriendly to your temporal success in 
life, as it is offensive in the eyes of a holy God, and 
adapted to draw down his judgments upon you. " The 
way of transgressors is indeed hard." Misery and 
shame are its native and necessary consequences. You 
may hope by the force of your talents, and by the fame 
of your scholarship, to obviate these consequences. 
But this is " fighting against God." If you indulge 
in any form of immorality, it would require a constant 
course of miracles to save you from the temporal as 
well as eternal penalty, which a holy God has annexed 
to the transgression of his law. And remember, I 
entreat you, twx> things which are worthy of your 
serious consideration in regard to immoral practices. 
The first is, that the young are peculiarly exposed 
to these criminal and mischievous indulgences. Their 
passions are strong ; their experience is small ; their 
moral principles are too often weak and wavering ; their 
feelings are sanguine and buoyant ; their self-confidence 
is great ; and they are frequently led on by the social 
principle to practices which, however manifestly peril- 
ous, have never been duly considered. how often 
are young persons led, "like an ox to the slaughter," 
by evil passions, or evil companions, or both, into habits 
from which they apprehend no danger ! Our corrupt 
hearts, indeed, are apt, at all ages, to triumph over con- 
science and the dictates of virtue ; but in youth many 
of the safeguards against vice, which longer experience 
and more sedate feelings furnish, either do not exist at 
all, or operate much more feebly. 0, if a young man, 
when he begins to slide, could see, as his older friends 
or his parents see, the yawning gulf on the brink of 
which he stands, and the awful peril to which he is 
exposed, he would be thankful to any one who should 
interpose, and with a friendly hand forcibly pull him 
away from the precipice. But as he is peculiarly ex- 
posed to danger, so it is hard to make him see or feel 
its reality. 
5* 



54 MORALS. 

The second consideration worthy of your serious 
regard is, that as youth is a season of peculiar expo- 
sure to the entanglements of immorality, so the im- 
moral habits then formed are peculiarly apt to establish 
a fatal reign, and finally and totally to destroy their 
unhappy victims. Habits formed in the morning of 
life are apt to "grow with the growth, and strengthen 
with the strength." It has been remarked by saga- 
cious observers of human nature, that as young men, 
from the ardour of their feelings, and their love of ex- 
citement, are more apt, for example, to be ensnared 
by strong drink than those more advanced in life ; so 
tippling habits formed in early life are peculiarly apt 
to gain strength, to take a firmer and more morbid 
hold of the physical frame, and to drag their victim 
more powerfully and speedily to a drunkard's grave. 

The same general remark may be made concerning 
almost every other form of vice; — concerning depar- 
tures from the solemnity of truth, the indulgence of 
illicit sexual intercourse, and approaches to the gam- 
bler's career. He who is enabled to keep himself 
pure from these sins during his youth, has gained an 
advantage, for which he can never be sufficiently thank- 
ful. Every successive year that this happy exemption 
continues, augments, under God, his ground of confi- 
dence and hope. Now is the time, my dear sons, if 
you wish to form habits which will bear reflection ; 
which will secure you from the vices which are daily 
destroying thousands ; which will prepare you, by the 
blessing of God, for a useful and honoured career ; 
and for a green and happy old age, with bodily and 
mental faculties unimpaired by excess ; with grateful 
recollections of the past, and with a good hope through 
grace for the future. Guard with the utmost care, 
and with humble, unceasing application to the God of 
all grace for strength, against every approach to that 
which is forbidden. And remember that in all the 
extent of the expression it may be said, that " the 
ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths peace." 



LETTER V. 



RELIGION. 



Chose admirable ! la religion Chretienne, qui ne semble avoir 
d'objet que la felicite de P autre vie, fait encore n6tre bonheur 
dans celle-ci. Montesquieu. 

My Dear Sons — I have hitherto addressed you 
on subjects so practically and immediately im- 
portant in college life ; so universally acknowledged 
to be essential to all decorum of character, and 
all respectability of standing in decent society, that 
you will not, it is presumed, admit for a moment 
of doubt or cavil in regard to anything which has 
been advanced. But I must now request your at- 
tention to a subject, concerning which there is great 
diversity of opinion, and especially of feeling, among 
young men. For though it is, incontrovertibly, 
the most important of all subjects which the human 
mind can contemplate ; yet you see and hear enough 
every day to know, that the great majority of those 
around you, of all ages, and especially of those who 
are borne along by the sanguine hopes and the ardent 
passions of youth, have no disposition to make religion 
even an object of serious inquiry, much less to submit 
to its governing power. Yet can anything be more 
self-evident than that, if there be an object within the 
range of human study more worthy of supreme atten- 
tion than all others, religion is that object ? Surely, 
to every thinking being, the existence and character 
of our Almighty Creator ; the relations and responsi- 
bility which we bear to him ; the means of obtaining 

(55) 



56 KELIGIOtf. 

his favour ; the immortality and destiny of our souls ; 
and the method of securing endless blessedness, when 
all the possessions and enjoyments of this world shall 
have passed away — are objects of regard which infi- 
nitely transcend all others in interest and importance. 
How, then, shall we account for the undeniable fact, 
that these great objects, though confessedly the most 
interesting that can be presented to the human mind, 
are precisely those which educated, intellectual young 
men are more apt to neglect and disregard than all 
others ? I can account for this unquestionable and 
distressing fact, only by recognizing as assuredly true, 
what the Bible declares concerning our fallen and de- 
praved nature ; — that " the natural (or unrenewed) 
man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, 
neither can he know them, because they are spiritually 
discerned ;" — that " madness is in the hearts of men 
while they live, and after that they go to the dead." 
This statement solves the difficulty ; and shows us why 
it is that, while a great majority, even of the young, 
grant in words that piety is both wisdom and happi- 
ness ; while they confess that they ought to be pious ; 
and while so many profess to lament that they are not 
pious ; yet that millions with these confessions on 
their lips, voluntarily neglect this great concern, as if 
it were known to be the veriest fable. Their judg- 
ments are in favour of it. Their consciences tell them 
that it ought not to be neglected ; but " they have no 
heart for it;" and hence they go on from day to day 
to postpone all attention to it, without anxiety, and 
without regret. 

Allow me to hope that my beloved sons — who have 
been dedicated to God in holy baptism ; who have 
lived, from their infancy, in a house of Bibles, and of 
prayer ; and who have already seen, even in the few 
years they have lived, so many of the deplorable fruits 
of impiety — will not indulge in this infatuation ; or 
rather, that they will beg of the God of all grace to 
enable them to take a wiser course, and, like one com* 



RELIGION. 57 

mended of old, to choose that good part which shall 
not be taken away from them. 

But where, on this subject, shall I begin ? That 
every human being has within him an immortal spirit 
which will survive the dissolution of the body ; that 
there is a God who made us, who has a right to our 
services, and who will finally be our judge ; that he 
is a being of infinite holiness, who cannot look upon 
sin but with abhorrence ; and that without his favour 
we can never be happy — these are first principles on 
this great subject, which, it is presumed, no one but an 
atheist will, for a moment, deny or question. But 
how the favour of this great Being, with all its precious 
results, is to be obtained, and our happiness in both 
worlds secured, is the grand question which religion — 
the religion of Jesus Christ, and that alone, can satis- 
factorily answer. 

The great principle with which we are to begin, in 
all our inquiries on this subject, is that we are sinners ; 
that we need pardon for our offences, and the purifica- 
tion of our depraved nature. No expressions are more 
common among all classes of men than those of Saviour 
and salvation. But why do we need a Saviour, unless 
we are involved in guilt and ruin before God ? Why 
need a Redeemer and redemption, unless we are the 
bond staves of sin and Satan, and can be ransomed only 
by an Almighty Deliverer, paying our debt to the jus- 
tice of God, and making an atonement for our sins ? 
Accordingly the word of God teaches us, not merely 
that, if we go on to forget and neglect the divine law, 
we are in danger of incurring the awful displeasure of 
our Maker and Sovereign, but that we are " con- 
demned already;" that we are by nature guilty and 
polluted, and must inevitably perish, unless we are 
delivered from condemnation and depravity by the 
power and grace of the Saviour. The whole strain of 
Scripture, from beginning to end, represents us as in 
these deplorable circumstances. When it proclaims 
that Christ came " to seek and to save the lost ;" when 



58 RELIGION. 

it tells us that " the whole have no need of a physician, 
but they who are sick ;" when it calls upon all the 
children of men in every situation of life to " repent 
of sin;" and when it assures us that, without a renova- 
tion of our nature, we can never see the face of God in 
peace, it is evident that all these representations con- 
spire to fasten upon us the charge of being fallen and 
depraved creatures, in need of deliverance from ruin. 
If this be so, surely our situation is most serious, de- 
manding all that solemn consideration in regard to our 
acceptance with God, and our preparation for meeting 
him, which the holy Scriptures everywhere call upon 
us to exercise. 

It has been your privilege, my dear sons, from your 
childhood, to be instructed in the way of salvation by 
Christ. But this is one of the great subjects in regard to 
which " line upon line, and precept upon precept," are 
found needful. You will not, therefore, I trust, con- 
sider it as superfluous to have your attention drawn to 
that great method of mercy, which the word of God 
styles "glad tidings of great joy to all people." And 
I hope, too, you will not forget that it is one thing to 
contemplate and acknowledge this method of mercy as 
a mere doctrinal statement, and quite another to re- 
ceive it with gratitude and love, and make it the guide 
and joy of our lives. 

The following statement may be considered as ex- 
hibiting that plan of acceptance with God, and of 
eternal life, with which you have been familiar from 
your youth up. that it were impressed upon every 
heart connected with your institution, not merely as 
a system of theoretical belief, but as a plan of practical 
hope and life ! 

Man was made perfectly upright ; in full possession 
of all the powers necessary to perfect moral agency, 
and with all the dispositions which prompted to a per- 
fectly correct use of those powers. But "man being 
in honour abode not." He rebelled against God. He 
violated the covenant under which he was placed, and 



RELIGION. 59 

became liable to the dreadful penalty which it de- 
nounced against transgressors. In this fall of our first 
parents we are all sharers. Adam, as the covenant 
head of our race, bore a representative character. He 
was so constituted by a sovereign God ; and when he 
fell, all his posterity fell with him. "In Adam," 
says the inspired apostle, " all die." " By one man's 
disobedience," he again declares, " many were made 
sinners." When our first father lost the holy image 
of God, he was of course incapable of transmitting it 
to us. We have, therefore, all totally lost our original 
righteousness ; so that there is now, by nature, "none 
righteous, no not one." In short, we have all become 
guilty and polluted before God, and incapable of re- 
gaining his image or his favour by any merit or doings 
of our own. How, then, are we to be delivered from 
these deplorable circumstances ? How shall we escape 
that wrath and curse which are the just penalty of sin ? 
" How can we escape the damnation of hell ?" In one 
word, how can those who must confess themselves to be 
sinners, miserable sinners, be saved ? The law of God 
demands perfect obedience in thought, word, and deed, 
upon pain of death. It makes no allowance for the 
smallest delinquency or imperfection. Indeed, a Being 
of infinite purity cannot possibly demand less than per- 
fection. To do this, would be to countenance sin. Nor 
can God set aside his own law, or permit his majesty 
and authority, as a righteous Governor, to be trampled 
under foot. To " clear the guilty," to take impenitent 
rebels, polluted with the love, as well as laden with the 
guilt of sin, into the arms of his love, would be to u deny 
himself." Where then is our refuge ? Can God, con- 
sistently with his righteous character, forgive sin at 
all ? If he can, how much, and under w T hat circum- 
stances, can he forgive ? To these questions the light 
of nature can give no answer. Without the light of 
revelation, clouds and darkness rest upon all the con- 
ditions and prospects of our race. 

But, blessed be God ! " life and immortality are 



60 RELIGION. 

brought to light through the gospel." Jehovah, in his 
infinite wisdom, power, and love, has devised and pro- 
claimed a wonderful plan, by which sin was punished in 
our representative, while the sinner is pardoned ; by 
which justice is completely satisfied, while mercy is 
extended to the guilty and vile ; by which " grace 
reigns through righteousness unto eternal life, by Jesus 
Christ our Lord." This wonderful and glorious plan 
of mercy consisted in the Father giving his own Son 
to obey, suffer, and die in our stead, as our substitute ; 
and in the Son consenting to take our place, to bear 
the penalty of the law in our stead, to " put away sin 
by the sacrifice of himself," and by his sufferings and 
obedience to purchase for us that justifying righteous- 
ness which we could never have wrought out for our- 
selves. 

Such are the "glad tidings of great joy" which in the 
gospel are proclaimed to our fallen world ; that the Lord 
Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, condescended, in 
his wonderful love, to assume our nature; to obey and 
suffer as our surety ; to lift the penalty of sin from us, 
and take it on himself; and thus voluntarily to become 
the victim of divine justice in our stead. His language, 
in the eternal counsels of peace, was, " Let me suffer in- 
stead of the guilty; letmedie to save them. Deliverthem 
from going down to the pit; I will be their ransom." 
This wonderful, this unparalleled offer was accepted. 
The Father was well pleased for the righteousness' sake 
of his Son. He accepted his atoning sacrifice and 
perfect righteousness as the price of our justification ; 
so that all who repent of sin, and believe in the name 
of this great Mediator, are " freely justified from all 
things, from which they could not be justified by the 
law of Moses" — that is by their own works of obedience. 
So that the Scripture may well say concerning the 
Saviour — " He is the end of the law for righteousness 
to every one that believeth. He is the Lord our 
righteousness. He was wounded for our transgression ; 
he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of 



RELIGION. 61 

our peace was upon him ; and by his stripes we are 
healed. He bare our sins in his own body on the tree. 
He died the just for the unjust, that he might bring 
us to God. He delivered us from the curse of the 
law, being made a curse for us." 

Here, then, my dear sons, is the only way of a 
sinner's return to God, and securing a title to eternal 
blessedness. In virtue of the covenant of redemption, 
the righteousness of Christ, or what he did and suffered 
on our behalf, is placed to the account of all who be- 
lieve in him, as if they had performed it in their own 
persons. Though sinful and utterly unworthy in them- 
selves, God is pleased to pardon and accept them as 
righteous in his sight, only for the righteousness' sake 
of his beloved Son. I am aware, indeed, that some 
who speak much of the "merits of Christ," and pro- 
fess to rely entirely on those merits, represent the whole 
subject in a very different light. They suppose that, in 
consideration of the sufferings and death of our blessed 
Saviour, the original law of God, demanding perfect 
obedience, is repealed, and a mitigated law prescribed 
as the rule of our obedience. So that now, under the 
Christian dispensation, a perfect obedience is not re- 
quired, but only an imperfect one, accommodated to 
our fallen nature and our many infirmities. But they 
insist that this imperfect obedience is the meritorious 
ground of our acceptance with God ; and, of course, 
that eternal life is the purchase of our own works. In 
short, the doctrine of these errorists is, that the benefit 
conferred by the sufferings and death of Christ, con- 
sists, not in providing an entire righteousness for us, 
but only in abating the demands of the law ; in bring- 
ing down the divine requirements more to a level with 
our ability, and still enabling us, low as we have fallen, 
to be the purchasers of salvation by our own obedience. 
Be assured this view of the subject is a grievous de- 
parture from the scriptural doctrine concerning the 
way of salvation. The Bible represents our pardon and 
acceptance with God as not founded, in any respect, or 
6 



62 KELIGION. 

in any degree, on our own obedience ; but as wholly 
of grace — as a mere unmerited gift, bestowed solely on 
account of what the Redeemer has done as our substi- 
tute and surety. i It represents the holy law of God as 
remaining in all its original strictness, without repeal 
or mitigation ; and as still falling with the whole weight 
of its penalty on all who have not taken refuge by faith 
in the Redeemer. But it declares the penalty to be re- 
moved from all who repent, and believe the gospel, not 
on account of any worthiness in themselves, as the 
meritorious ground of the benefit, but only on account 
of the perfect righteousness of Him who, " through the 
eternal Spirit, offered himself without spot to God." 
In short, the doctrine of the Bible is, that the holy cha- 
racter of God remaining unchangeably the same, and 
his law remaining without the least mitigation or abate- 
ment, the penitent and believing are accepted as 
righteous, solely on account of the obedience of the 
Mediator set to their account, and considered as wrought 
for them. 

This righteousness of Jehovah the Saviour is said to 
be "to all, and upon all them that believe," — that is, 
it is imputed to none, set to the account of none, but 
those who receive Christ by faith. Faith is that great 
master grace by which we become united to the Saviour, 
and his merits are made ours. This righteousness, there- 
fore, is called " the righteousness of faith," and " the 
righteousness of God by faith." Hence we are said 
to be "justified by faith," and to be u saved by faith ;" 
not that faith, as an act of ours, is in any measure the 
meritorious ground of our justification ; but all these 
expressions imply that there is an inseparable connec- 
tion, in the economy of grace, between believing in 
Christ, and being justified by him, or having his 
righteousness imputed to us. Happy, thrice happy 
they, who can thus call the Saviour theirs, and who 
have thus " received the atonement." From this hour, 
though unworthy in themselves, they are graciously 
pronounced righteous by their heavenly Judge, on ac- 



RELIGION. G3 

count of what the Mediator has done. Their sins, 
though many, are for his sake forgiven them. They 
are " accepted in the Beloved." There is no condemna- 
tion to them now ; and they shall find, to their eternal 
joy, that there is both safety and happiness in appear- 
ing clothed in the righteousness of Him who loved sin- 
ners, and gave himself for them, in " robes washed and 
made white in the blood of the Lamb." 

But we not only need to be justified by the righteous- 
ness of Christ; we also indispensably need to be 
sanctified by the Spirit of Christ. We are by nature 
polluted as well as guilty. Accordingly the purifi- 
cation of our hearts, as well as the pardon of our 
sins, is one of the great benefits which the blessed Be- 
deemer has purchased and secured by covenant to all 
believers. And for both these benefits the plan of 
mercy exhibited in the Gospel makes equal and effec- 
tual provision. " Whom he justifies them he also sancti- 
fies." By the power of the Holy Spirit the dominion 
of sin is broken in the hearts of all who are brought 
under the power of the Gospel. The dominion of cor- 
ruption in the soul is destroyed ; the love of it is taken 
away ; and though not perfectly sanctified in the pre- 
sent life, yet every believer has his sanctification begun. 
And it is carried on, not by his own wisdom or strength, 
but by the same divine power by which it was com- 
menced ; until he is, at last, made perfectly holy, as 
well as perfectly happy, in the presence of his God 
and Saviour. 

Such, my dear sons, is that most interesting of all 
messages, which the religion of Jesus Christ brings to 
all who hear the Gospel. It charges us with being 
sinners — miserable sinners in the sight of God, without 
merit, without strength, and without hope in ourselves. 
It freely offers us peace, and pardon, and sanctification, 
and eternal life, "without money and without price," 
that is, as a free unmerited gift, "through the redemp- 
tion that is in Christ Jesus." Its language is, "who- 
soever cometh to Him, he will in no wise cast out;" 



64 RELIGION. 

and again, "whosoever will, let him come, and take of 
the water of life freely." It calls upon you to re- 
nounce all confidence in yourselves, and to receive and 
rest on Christ alone for salvation, as he is freely offered 
in the gospel. To this end, it is indispensable that 
you be convinced of sin ; that you feel a deep and 
cordial sense of your own sinfulness and un worthiness ; 
that you despair of saving yourselves ; that you fall at 
the footstool of sovereign grace, feeling that you de- 
serve to die, and that you can have no hope but in the 
atoning blood and sanctifying Spirit of the Redeemer. 
Until you are prepared to accept of Him with such 
convictions, and in this character ; until you sincerely 
feel that you have nothing to plead but his merit, and 
humbly and gratefully rely on his grace and love 
for all that you need, you have yet to learn all that is 
practical and precious of this holy religion. 

Say not, that our sinning and falling in Adam, and 
our recovery through the atoning sacrifice and right- 
eousness of another, are mysteries which you cannot 
understand, and which are revolting to your minds. 
Surely it ought not to excite surprise or wonder in a 
reasonable being, that we should find mysteries in a 
plan of salvation contrived and made known by an in- 
finite and incomprehensible God. But "let God be 
true, and every man a liar/ 5 What I have stated is 
plainly the doctrine of the w T ord of God in relation to 
this great subject. It clearly informs us, that as in 
Adam we lost our innocence, and the divine favour, so 
through Christ, who is styled the "second Adam," we 
regain both the favour and image of God. " The 
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." Let this suffice. 
Let us abhor the thought of being found " fighting 
against God." 

But after all, do you ask, of what great value is this 
religion, that you should be urged with so much im- 
portunity to embrace it ? I hope you will not be dis- 
posed to ask such a question ; but if you should be, let 
me answer, its value is unspeakable, is infinite, for the 



RELIGION. 65 

present world, as well as the future; for "godliness is 
profitable unto all things, having the promise of the 
life that now is, as well as of that which is to come." 

True religion is the only solid basis and pledge of 
good morals. I do not say, that there are no exam- 
ples of unblemished morals among those who are not 
truly religious. Nor do I mean to assert, that all who 
claim to be religious are correct in their morals. But 
my meaning is, that the possession of true religion is 
the only sure pledge, the only effectual guaranty of 
sober deportment, of pure and exemplary morals, espe- 
cially amidst the ardour and temptations of youth. It 
is a common maxim, among the men of the world, that 
" every man has his price." It cannot be denied, that, 
independently of the power of religion, there is too 
much reason for the adoption of this maxim. No one 
can be considered as safe from the allurements of sen- 
suality, of avarice, or of ambition, unless fortified by 
principles drawn from the power and grace of God. 
There is absolutely no security, my dear sons, in any- 
thing short of this. We have all seen young men of 
the most elevated connections ; of the finest talents ; 
of the most excellent scholarship ; of the very first 
general promise of character ; and who seemed des- 
tined to adorn the highest stations ;— we have seen 
them falling into habits of intemperance, gambling, 
fraud, lewdness, or some other degrading moral delin- 
quency ; gradually losing their reputation ; losing their 
own self-respect ; and either consigned by their vices 
to premature graves, or sunk, through the whole of 
their course, into wretchedness and infamy. When 
you think of such misguided and ruined youth, you 
may be ready to think, and to say, that you can rely 
on your own resolution to guard against such a ruinous 
course. But all confidence in anything, except reli- 
gion, to preserve you from such courses, is fallacious 
and vain. And by religion here, I do not mean merely 
a profession of religion ; for that will be no effectual 
safeguard to any one ; we have seen professors, of 
6* 



06 , RELIGION. 

more than ordinary apparent zeal, disgrace themselves 
and the name by which they were called. But I mean 
the possession of real practical religion — the reli- 
gion of the heart. This is a real security. This will 
hold its possessor firmly and safely; and amidst all the 
storms of life, preserve from fatal shipwreck. We 
shall never hear of such a young man, that he has 
died a drunkard ; or that he has been detected in base, 
mean, or swindling practices ; or that he has become 
the companion of gamblers and blacklegs ; or that he 
has murdered some acquaintance, or been murdered 
himself in a duel ; or that he has been embarrassed 
and degraded by some licentious connection. No, we 
shall hear no such tidings of any such youth. He 
may not be rich ; though he will be more likely to suc- 
ceed in his temporal aifairs than any other person. 
He may not be crowned with a large amount of worldly 
honour ; though the probability is, that he will be more 
successful in this respect also, than the most of those 
who are destitute of religious principle. But he will 
be happy while he does live. He will be respected, and 
beloved, and useful. His latter end will be peace ; 
and his name will be embalmed in the memory of the 
wise and the good, while the name of the wicked shall 
rot. 

Further, true religion is the only adequate comforter 
under the sorrows and trials of life. These will come, 
in a greater or less degree, to all. The sanguine young 
man may, indeed, imagine, in the buoyancy of his 
hopes, that he shall never see sorrow ; but that health, 
affluence, and pleasure shall mark his whole course. 
But if he "see many days, and rejoice in them all, let 
him remember the days of darkness, for they shall be 
many." There will be seasons of gloom and adversity 
to the most favoured. In those seasons where will 
be your refuge ? Happy are those who, when the world 
frowns, when dangers threaten, when health gives way, 
when disappointments arise, can look up to a reconciled 
God and Father ; can go to a throne of grace, and 



RELIGION. 67 

there leave every interest in the hands of infinite wisdom 
and goodness ! It has been my happiness to see such 
ycmng men ; to see them adorning and enjoying the 
college to which you belong ; and the recollection of 
the noble spirit and character which they presented, is 
now refreshing to the mind, especially when contrasted 
with the timidity, the weakness, and the comfortless 
character of the frivolous throng around them, in cir- 
cumstances of similar trial. Montesquieu might well 
say, "How admirable is that religion which, while it 
seems only to have in view the felicity of another world, 
constitutes the happiness of the present !" Sir Hum- 
phry Davy, born in poverty, and in an obscure corner 
of England, was raised by industry and merit, unaided 
by friends, to such distinction, that he was chosen at 
the age of twenty-two, to fill the chair of chemistry in 
the " Royal Institution" of London. A few years 
afterwards he was elected President of the "Royal 
Society" of London, and stood confessedly at the head 
of the chemists of Europe. His testimony in favour 
of the consolations of religion is of the following de- 
cisive character : "I envy," says he, "no quality of 
the mind or intellect in others ; not genius, power, wit, 
or fancy; but if I could choose what would be most 
delightful, and, I believe, most useful to me, I should 
prefer a firm religious belief to every other blessing ; 
for it makes life a discipline of goodness ; — creates new 
hopes when all earthly hopes vanish ; — throws over the 
decay, the destruction of existence, the most precious 
of all lights ; — awakens life even in death, and from 
corruption and decay calls up beauty and divinity ; — 
makes an instrument of torture and shame the ladder 
of ascent to paradise ; — and, far above all combinations 
of earthly hopes, calls up the most delightful visions 
of palms and amaranths, the gardens of the blessed, 
the security of everlasting joys, when the sensualist 
and the sceptic see only gloom, decay and annihilation." 
His last work — "Consolations in Travel," still more 



68 HELIGION. 

fully developes his highly interesting sentiments on 
this subject. 

Finally ; true religion is the only preparation and 
security for future and eternal blessedness. Can any 
thinking being, however young and buoyant in spirit, 
forget that he is soon to die, and bid farewell to all 
that he values here below ? and that this event may 
take place before he has passed the age of adolescence ? 
and that, of course, the interests of eternity are in- 
finitely the most momentous ? What is the body to 
the soul? What are all the transient joys of earth to 
the everlasting treasures of heaven ? For those trea- 
sures and joys you can never be prepared, unless you 
have a taste and relish for them. Even if a holy God 
had not declared in his word, that a without holiness no 
man can see the Lord." the nature of the case would 
pronounce the same decision. No one can be happy 
but in his appropriate element. To imagine that any 
one can reach and enjoy a holy heaven, without some 
degree of meetness for the society and employments of 
that blessed world, is, of all delusions, one of the most 
preposterous and miserable. Our title to heaven is, 
as you have heard, what the Saviour has done and 
suffered for us as our surety. But our indispensable 
preparation for heaven, is that renewal of our nature 
by the Holy Spirit, which renders the presence and 
glory of God delightful to the soul. He who re- 
mains under the power of that carnal mind which is 
enmity against God, can be happy nowhere in the 
universe. Even if he could overleap the walls of the 
celestial paradise, it would be no heaven to him. He 
would still be constrained with anguish to say — 
" Where'er I go is hell, myself am hell !" 
' These considerations, I have no doubt, will convince, 
have convinced, your judgment that religion is worthy 
of your supreme regard. Its claims are so obviously 
reasonable and powerful, that they can never be re- 
sisted by sober reasoning. But there is no delusion 
more common than that which tempts the young to 



RELIGION. 69 

postpone all attention to this subject to a future period. 
Knowing its importance, but " having no heart for it" 
at present, they are ready from day to day, to say to 
the serious monitor — " Go thy way for this time, when 
I have a more convenient season I will call for thee." 
Let me warn you against this procrastinating spirit, by 
which so many have been deceived and ruined. If 
religion be so precious as a guide, as a comforter, as a 
pledge of temporal prosperity and enjoyment, and as 
the indispensable means of eternal happiness — can 
you begin too soon to enjoy its benefits ? If " the 
ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
paths peace," is it wise to say, "Let me put off the 
attainment of this happiness to a future period?" 
Surely the sooner you begin to enjoy advantages so 
radical and precious, the better. Besides, have you 
any assurance that you will live to that age, or to see 
that concurrence of circumstances, which you fondly 
imagine will be more favorable to engaging in a life 
of piety than the present time ? Not long since, a 
graduate of one of our colleges was heard to say — " I 
have finished my college education. I will now devote 
two years to the study of a profession ; and then I 
will take one year to see what there is in that mighty 
thing they call religion." So calculated this blooming, 
sanguine youth. But before the time specified had 
half elapsed, he suddenly fell sick; w T as seized with 
delirium ; and expired without hope. But why need 
I resort to the case of one with w x hom you had no per- 
sonal acquaintance ? Can you forget your own beloved 
brothers and sisters, removed in the morning of life ; 
one of whom was cut down in a few weeks after his 
graduation, and when he w T as just entering on a course 
of professional study ; and another at a still earlier 
stage of his education ? What security have you that 
you will live to see another year ? And even if you 
could be certain of living to old age, what reason have 
you to hope, if you go on neglecting religion, and 
hardening yourselves against its claims, that you will 



70 RELIGION. 

have grace given you, even in the decline of life, to 
" consider your ways ?" how many, who were in 
youth thoughtful and tender, have become more and 
more callous to every serious impression, as they ad- 
vanced in life ; and have at length sunk into the grave 
as destitute of hope as ever ! Be entreated, then, my 
dear sons, now, while your hearts are comparatively 
tender; before the cares of the world have entwined 
around them a thousand entanglements ; before you 
become hardened by inveterate habits of sin ; be en- 
treated to make choice of "that good part which can 
never be taken away from you." 

I wish it were in my power, my beloved sons, to im- 
part to you such views of this subject, as I am sure an 
enlightened attention to facts could not fail to give. 
Take up a college catalogue. 0, it is a most instructive 
pamphlet ! It affords a lively comment on all that I 
have told you about the uncertainty of life, and the 
folly of delaying to enter on the duties of true religion. 
Take it up, and look at the asterisk — that mournful 
mark of death, which stands opposite to the names of 
so many who received the honours of your college, 
within your own recollection. How some of them died, 
I am not able to tell you ; but others departed, lament- 
ing that they had not made more and earlier prepara- 
tion for a dying hour, and that their time had been so 
much given to the vanities of the world. Will you not 
profit by such painful examples ? " that you were 
wise, that you understood these things, that you would 
consider your latter end !" 

If you ask me, how that piety which is represented 
as so important, is to be attained, I answer, it is not 
the spontaneous growth of our nature. It is that to 
w T hich we are naturally averse. It is the gift of God ; 
and to be sought in the diligent use of those means 
which God has appointed for drawing near to him. 
The royal Psalmist asks — " Wherewith shall a young 
man cleanse his way?" And his answer is, "By 
taking heed thereto according to thy word." That is, 



RELIGION. 71 

it requires sincere and solemn application of mind to 
the subject, without which no one has a right to hope 
that he shall make the attainment. 

The diligent perusal of the word of God is one of 
the most obvious and important of the means of grace. 
The Bible was given us to be a "light to our feet, 
and a lamp to our path." It exhibits, with unerring 
fidelity, every enemy, every snare, every danger which 
beset your path. It gives all the information, all the 
warning, all the caution, and all the encouragement 
which you need. It tells you, more perfectly than any 
other book, all that you have to fear, and all that you 
have to hope for. There is not a form of error or of 
corruption against which it does not put you on your 
guard ; not an excellence or a duty which it does not di- 
rect you to cultivate and attain. No one ever made this 
holy book the guide of his life, without walking wisely, 
safely and happily ; without finding the truest enjoy- 
ment in this world, and eternal blessedness in the world 
to come. But this is not all. The Bible is not only 
the word of life. It is not only that wonderful book 
which was sent from heaven to show us the way of 
salvation : it not only contains the glad tidings of par- 
don, and peace, and love, and glory to a lost world ; 
and is, of course, worthy of the most grateful recep- 
tion, and the most diligent and reverential study; but 
there is, besides, something in it w r hich it becomes 
every aspirant to literary reputation duly to appreciate. 
It is full of the noblest specimens of literary beauty, 
and of tender, pathetic eloquence, that the w^orld ever 
saw. There is something in it better adapted to touch 
the finest and best chords of human sensibility, to reach 
and sway the heart, than the most laboured products 
of rhetoric that the skill of man ever formed. I have 
known more than one case, in which secular orators 
have drawn from the figures and the language of the 
Bible their mightiest weapons, both for convincing the 
judgment, and captivating the hearts of their hearers ; 
and am persuaded that he who does not study his 



72 RELIGION. 

Bible, as well as his secular authorities, in preparing 
for public life, neglects a very important part of his 
education. 

And in reading the Bible, I hope you will not for- 
get that it is to be read with feelings, and in a manner 
very different from those with which you peruse all 
other books. If it be indeed inspired of God, and 
given to teach us the way of salvation, it surely ought 
to be read with serious and fixed attention ; with un- 
wearied diligence ; with deep humility ; with candid 
application to your own heart and conscience ; and 
W T ith devout application to the throne of grace, that 
you may be enabled to read it with understanding and 
with profit. Happy, thrice happy, is that youth who 
learns to go to the Bible for all his sentiments, princi- 
ples, and rules of action ; who searches its sacred 
pages daily for direction in his pursuits, for guidance 
in his perplexities, for comfort in his sorrows, and for 
help in every time of need. Such have the best 
pledge of temporal enjoyment, and of eternal blessed- 
ness. 

Another important means by which you ought to 
seek the favour and image of God, is prayer. Need 
I dwell either on the duty or reasonableness of this 
exercise ? If we are entirely dependent on God for 
every temporal and spiritual blessing, then it is surely 
reasonable that we should acknowledge our dependence, 
and apply to him with humility and earnestness for 
his aid. If his favour is life, and his blessings the 
best riches, it is evident that we ought to supplicate 
them with importunity and perseverance. If we are 
sinners, unworthy of the divine favour, we ought to 
humble ourselves at his footstool, and make confession 
of our sins with penitence, and a sincere desire to do 
better in time to come. If he has revealed a plan of 
mercy and grace to us, of which he invites and com- 
mands us to avail ourselves, then every principle of 
self-interest concurs with reason in urging us to seek 
with earnestness a participation in that mercy. And 



RELIGION. 73 

if our Maker and Redeemer lias, in so many words, 
commanded us " by prayer and supplication with 
thanksgiving, to make known our requests to God," 
who can question, for a moment, the reasonableness of 
a compliance with that command ? 

I am afraid that many a youth who has been taught 
from his childhood to fear God, would be ashamed to 
be seen bowing his knees in secret before that Being 
whom his parents supremely love and venerate, and 
by whom he has been himself protected and sustained 
ever since he was born. Can it be necessary for me to 
demonstrate to you that this is a shame as foolish, as in- 
fatuated as it is criminal ? Ashamed of acknowledging 
your Maker, your Sovereign, your constant Benefactor, 
who alone can make you happy, either in this world, 
or the world to come ! what insanity is here ! It 
is to be ashamed of your true glory. A shame, the 
folly and infatuation of which can be equalled only by 
that which is manifested by the old as well as the 
young, viz., " glorying in their shame." 

You will have no good reason to expect the blessing 
of God on your persons, your studies, or any of your 
interests, without feeling your need of that blessing, 
and importunately asking for it. Let no day, then, 
pass without at least two seasons of prayer. When you 
rise in the morning, implore the guidance and benedic- 
tion of heaven on all the employments and privileges 
of the day ; for you know not what may occur to dis- 
turb your peace, or endanger your character or im- 
provement. And when you retire to rest at night, ask 
for the protection and blessing of Him who neither 
slumbereth nor sleepeth, over the repose of the night- 
watches. Nor are these the only proper objects of 
petition. Pray for your instructors ; that they may 
be aided in their official work, and rewarded for all 
their labours of love. Pray for your fellow-students ; 
that they may be imbued with a love of knowledge, 
with a love of order, and with all those fraternal and 
honourable dispositions which may render their society 
7 



74 RELIGION. 

profitable and happy. Rely on it, the more you pray, 
the happier you will be. The more you make all 
around you the objects of your benevolent petitions, the 
more pleasant and profitable will be all your inter- 
course with them. 

As another important means of grace, make a point 
of attending on the public worship of God, on every 
Lord's day, as well as on every other occasion when 
you have an opportunity so to do. Let no pretext 
for absenting yourselves from the house of God ever 
be admitted. On the one hand, those who habitually 
neglect it, manifest a spirit of disregard to the divine 
authority, which indicates a spirit most unpromising 
in regard to their spiritual interest. While, on the 
other hand, those who make conscience of being pre- 
sent with the people of God whenever they are assem- 
bled, manifest a reverence for his name and his wor- 
ship, which we have reason to hope will issue in their 
happy preparation for his kingdom. 

Let me further recommend that you be in the habit 
of statedly setting apart seasons of retirement, medi- 
tation, and self-examination in regard to your spiritual 
interests. I once heard of a young man who was re- 
markably thoughtless and dissipated, whose father in 
his last will bequeathed to him a large estate, on con- 
dition that he would, for so many years, spend half an 
hour every morning by himself, in serious reflection. 
The young man, in obedience to this injunction, began 
a compliance with it. At first it was a most unwel- 
come task, to which he forced himself as a means of 
holding his property. He soon submitted to it with 
less and less reluctance, until at length he adhered to 
it of choice, and became a truly virtuous and pious 
man. 

The only other means of attaining the knowledge 
and love of God which I shall urge, is the reverential 
observance of the holy Sabbath. As the consecration 
of this day to rest from secular labours, and to the ser- 
vice of God, is one of the most important means of 



RELIGION. i O 

keeping the world in order, and maintaining the reign 
of religion among men ; so the profanation of this clay, 
is one- of those sins which tend pre-eminently to banish 
religious sentiments from the mind, and to draw down 
the curse of heaven, both on individuals and society. 
There can be little hope, either of the success or the 
happiness of that individual, or that community, who 
habitually trample on that day which God has set apart 
for himself. The celebrated Lord Chief Justice Hale, 
equally distinguished as a jurist and a Christian, has 
left on record, " that he never prospered in any secu- 
lar employment, unless it were a work of necessity or 
mercy, undertaken on the Sabbath ; and, on the con- 
trary, that the more closely he applied himself to the 
appropriate duties of that holy day, the more happy 
and successful were all the business and employments 
of the w^eek following." The same, I am persuaded, 
will be the experience of every one who pays attention 
enough to this subject to mark the facts which occur in 
his own case. If, therefore, I were to hear that you 
were in the habit of pursuing your ordinary studies on 
the Sabbath, or of engaging in the secular amusements 
in which many profanely indulge on that day, I should 
expect to hear little good, either of your moral or reli- 
gious character, and should have little hope of your 
ultimate success, even in your intellectual pursuits. 
Rely upon it, you will never gain by robbing God, or 
by profaning any of his institutions. 

My dear sons, consider these things. The blessing 
of God is the best riches, and he addeth no sorrow with 
it. That blessing can never be expected, unless you 
sincerely seek and attain true religion. " It is, there- 
fore, not a vain thing for you; it is your life." Upon 
this hangs everything precious, everything truly valu- 
able for both worlds. There have, indeed, been in- 
stances of men, who had no religion, enjoying much tem- 
poral aggrandizement, and no small degree of honour 
among men. But how much happier would they have 
been ; and how much more solid honour and confidence 



76 EELIGION. 

might they have enjoyed, had they been sincere Chris- 
tians, living habitually under the influence, and enjoy- 
ing the consolations, of the gospel of Christ ! Sir Wal- 
ter Scott, and even the cold-blooded infidel, Byron, 
each attained a distinction in his day, which many a youth 
has been tempted to envy. But was either of them a 
happy man ? Especially was not the author of " Childe 
Harold'' regarded by every sober-minded contemporary, 
as, with all his talents, no better than a fiend incar- 
nate? And when we come to the death-bed of both, 
what do we see but the absence of that hope and com- 
fort which every wise man desires to enjoy in his last 
hour ? 

My dearly beloved sons ! You must one day be 
serious, whether you will or not. At present the vani- 
ties of the world may absorb your attention, and hide 
more important objects from your view. But, be as- 
sured, the time is approaching when you will see things 
in a very different light. The fashion of this world is 
rapidly passing away. Scenes untried and awful are 
about to open before you. Death, judgment and eter- 
nity are hastening on apace. Then, when the sources 
of earthly comfort are dried up ; when heart and flesh 
begin to fail ; when you are about to bid an everlast- 
ing farewell to this world, and all its vanities; then, 
if not before, you will certainly lament the want of 
sober consideration. Then, if not before, you will cry 
out in the bitterness of remorse, " that I had been 
wise, that I had thought of this, that I had considered 
my latter end !" Here, then, I must leave you, "com- 
mending you to God, and to the word of his grace, 
which is able to enlighten your mind ; to give you an 
heart to serve him ; and to prepare you for an inherit- 
ance amongst all them that are sanctified. " 



LETTER VI. 



REBELLIONS. 



Ars cujus principiiiHi est mentiri, medium laborare, finis 
poenitere. Anon. 

Facilis descensus Averni ; 



Sed revocare gradum. 

Hoc opus, hie labor est. ^Eneid, VI. 126. 

My Dear Sons — Though you have never been wit- 
nesses of one of those grand rebellions, of which the 
history of our college has furnished some examples, 
yet you have seen enough of the elements and the in- 
ceptive workings of such insanity, to form a tolerable 
estimate of its real character. And I think I may 
venture to say, that the more you have seen of the 
causes and spirit of such lawless outbreakings, the 
less you have respected them, and the more you have 
been disposed to contemplate their fomentors and their 
conductors with mingled feelings of contempt and ab- 
horrence. And I can assure you, my dear sons, if it 
were possible to impart to you the more intimate know- 
ledge that I have had of the commencement, the history, 
and the termination of all such scenes as have occurred 
in the college with which you are connected, within the 
last forty years, your impressions of their folly and 
wickedness would be still deeper and more abhorrent. 

Few things are more adapted to show both the in- 
fatuation and the atrocity of rebellions in college, than 
recurring to the origin of most of them. A great 
majority of them arise from a desire on the part of 
students, otherwise orderly, to shield from merited dis- 
7* (77) 



78 REBELLIONS. 

cipline the corrupt and profligate of their fellows. A 
few, perhaps, of the unprincipled and habitually disor- 
derly students have justly incurred the infliction of 
severe discipline — suspension, or expulsion from the 
institution. The delinquents have, it may be, some 
talents, much impudence ; and that desperate reck- 
lessness which makes them anxious, if they must go, to 
have companions both in crime and in suffering. A 
number of their fellow students, perhaps a large num- 
ber, are fools enough to be made the dupes of these 
profligates ; to make a common cause with them, and 
to resolve to share their fate. The consequence is, 
that they do share their fate. All that belong to the 
combination are sent away from college ; and are so 
far from gaining the end for which they combined, that 
the result is permanent and hopeless disgrace. Such 
is the usual history, and such the invariable result of 
college rebellions. In a few instances, the loss of life, 
either to some of the rebels, or of the faculty, has been 
the deplorable consequence. 

Now, in this whole matter, there is an amount of 
complicated folly and wickedness, which it is not easy 
to measure. For, in the first place, as to the original 
offenders, in whose behalf all this mischief has been 
perpetrated, they are commonly profligate villains, who 
ought not to belong to any decent institution, and 
whose defence, in any form, is infamy ; villains who, 
instead of being undeservedly or too hastily visited 
with discipline, ought, perhaps, long before to have 
been sent off in disgrace. In the second place, every 
step taken by this combination, is a high-handed and 
peculiarly criminal opposition, not only to the laws 
which its members are bound to obey, but to a faculty, 
as it were, in mass, who are labouring day and night 
to promote their welfare, and who are individually and 
collectively distressed by the insubordination. And in 
the third place, it is an act of wanton and voluntary 
suicide. Those who combine and make a common 
cause with the original delinquents, plunge into the 



REBELLIONS. 79 

gulf, for the sake of those who have neither gene- 
rosity nor honesty enough to thank them for the sacri- 
fice, and thus, perhaps, destroy all their own prospects 
for life, besides inflicting a wound on the hearts of pa- 
rents or guardians which can never be healed on this 
side of the grave. 

Nor is this all. No one can tell, when he connects 
himself with a scene of this kind, but that it may ter- 
minate, as was before intimated, in the loss of life. 
Many months have not elapsed, since, in a rebellion 
which took place in the university of a neighbouring 
state, a beloved and highly valued professor lost his life 
by the murderous hand of a profligate student ; and 
how often the most valuable lives have been put in im- 
minent danger in similar scenes of insubordination and 
violence, he who is even tolerably acquainted with their 
history, well knows. How infatuated, then, as well as 
criminal, must be that youth who allows himself to 
engage in a plan of resistance to lawful authority, 
which he cannot but know may terminate in the de- 
struction of his own life, or in that of one or more 
other individuals, a thousand times more precious to 
their friends and to the community than his own ! 

The following statement, perfectly in point, cannot 
fail of commanding the most respectful consideration 
from every reader who knows the high character of 
the writer, and who recollects that he speaks on this 
subject from the most ample experience. The vener- 
able writer speaking of himself, says : — 

"At the age of seventeen he left, for the first time, 
the house of the best of mothers, to go to Princeton 
College ; and w T ith the sincerest resolution to fulfil all 
her anxious wishes in his behalf. Towards the close 
of the first session, some very unworthy young men 
were dismissed. They contrived, however, to impose 
upon the great body of the others, and to induce them 
to believe that they were most unjustly and cruelly 
treated. What was called a petition was gotten up in 
their behalf, and offered for the signatures of the rest. 



80 REBELLIONS. 

Great numbers signed it, scarce knowing its contents. 
It proved to be such a one as the faculty could not 
-with propriety listen to, or allow to pass unnoticed. 
We were required to withdraw our signatures ; and it 
was so managed by the leaders of the rebellion, that 
the college was broken up in confusion, and all returned 
home. It was then that I felt the excellence of mater- 
nal authority, which great numbers felt not, for they 
did not return. My excellent mother, though mild, 
yet firm, as she was wont to be, bade me go back, and 
make atonement for the evil committed. And I went, 
and confessed my fault, and still live to exhort other 
parents, and other sons to 'go and do likewise.' As a 
warning to the young men of our land, let me say, that 
it required nearly thirty years to repair the injury done 
to that institution, by that proceeding of unreflecting 
and misguided youths. Let me warn them to beware 
how they ever assemble together for the purpose of 
consulting how to redress the supposed wrongs of their 
fellow-students ; and, above all, how they set their 
names to any instrument purporting to be a condem- 
nation of those in authority. Very seldom, indeed, 
will the faculty mistake in their judgments concerning 
those who are the subjects of discipline. All of those 
for whom the petition alluded to was offered, proved to 
be most unworthy characters ; and in my many and 
extensive journeys throughout the length and breadth 
of our land, since that time, I have met with very 
many of those who were most zealous in the cause, but 
never with one who did not condemn and regret the 
part which he had taken in it.' ? * 

Such is the faithful testimony of an eye and ear 
witness, nay of a deep temporary partaker in the evil 
deplored. I also, though never, at any period of my 
college course, a participant in such a scene, can bear 



* " Religious Education," a tract by the Eight Rev. William 
Meade, Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the dio- 
cese of Virginia. 



REBELLIONS. 81 

testimony equally explicit and to the same amount. 
My observation, in all cases, goes to establish the fol- 
lowing points : 

1. I have never known the rebels to carry their 
point ; that is, I have never known an instance in which 
they gained the object for which they combined. One 
of the laws of our college is in the following words : 

" If any clubs or combinations of the students shall 
at any time take place, either for resisting the au- 
thority of the college, interfering in its government, or 
for executing or concealing any evil or disorderly de- 
sign, every student concerned in such combination, 
shall be considered* as guilty of the offence which was 
intended ; and the faculty are empowered and directed 
to break up all such combinations as soon as discov- 
ered, and to inflict a severer punishment on each in- 
dividual than if the offence intended had been com- 
mitted in his individual capacity, whatever may be the 
number concerned, or whatever may be the conse- 
quence to the college. " 

This law, as far as my knowledge extends, has been 
uniformly acted upon in our college. In two instances, 
within my recollection, it became necessary to disband 
the entire body of the students. But the rebels always 
went home without attaining their object. 

2. In almost all cases — indeed I remember no real 
exception — the leading rebels turned out not only un- 
worthy, but profligate, degraded and miserable. The 
proud contrivers and chief conductors of insurrection 
against college authority, may glut their diabolical 
vengeance ; may give much trouble to those whom they 
dislike ; may destroy much property ; nay, may de- 
stroy life. But one thing is certain — their own infamy 
is hopelessly sealed. Their career generally shows 
that the frowns of man, and the curse of God rest upon 
them without remedy. If I could but give you the 
simple unvarnished history of a few of these mock 
heroes, after the catastrophe which led to their expul- 
sion from college, it would stand in the place of a 



82 REBELLIONS. 

thousand arguments against all such wicked and insane 
projects. 

3. I can also verify the statement of Bishop Meade, 
that I have never known any student who had the re- 
motest connection with any rebellious combination, 
who did not afterwards deeply regret his conduct, and 
condemn himself for it without reserve. 

4. Had you been trustees of our college as long as 
I have been, (now between thirty and forty years,) 
you would have been witnesses of some of the most 
painful conflicts, connected with this subject, which 
can well be encountered by men who have a paternal 
feeling for the welfare of youth. Young men who 
had suffered themselves to partake in the unlawful 
and disorganizing combinations which have been de- 
scribed, and had been subjected to the sentence of 
expulsion from the college, have returned, after the 
lapse of twenty years and more, and earnestly re- 
quested — not indeed to be received again as students 
— but to have the sentence of expulsion revoked, and 
the painful record of their disgrace borne by the col- 
lege records obliterated. You may well suppose that 
a board made up of serious benevolent men, ready to 
take every obstacle which they conscientiously could 
out of the way of a returning penitent, would feel no 
little pain in denying such a request from one who 
appeared to come with a proper spirit, and who had 
done all he could to atone for his crime by the sober 
and exemplary living of many years. But it was im- 
possible to comply with such a request. As well 
might a man who had been convicted of theft or for- 
gery, by a court of justice, twenty years ago, but had 
ever since, after suffering the penalty of the law, mani- 
fested a penitent and blameless life — come and ask 
the court to revoke its sentence, and expunge its record 
of his crime and conviction. The reply of Chief Jus- 
tice Hale, when importuned to have mercy on a weep- 
ing culprit, was a just and noble one — " While I wish 
to show mercy to him, I feel bound also to have mercy 



REBELLIONS. 83 

on my country." What would become of a college 
which should consent thus to reverse her sentences, 
and whitewash the traitors who had striven to destroy 
her ? Her authority would soon be despised, and her 
discipline a nullity. " The way of transgressors is 
indeed hard," and one of the many proofs of this is, 
that from the bitter consequences of many sins the 
culprits can never escape. The grave may hide their 
bodies from view ; but the memory of their crimes and 
their shame will be as imperishable as the records of 
justice can make them. 

You are now, I trust, my dear sons, after pondering 
on what has been said on this subject, in some mea- 
sure prepared to receive and profit by the paternal 
counsels which naturally flow from the foregoing con- 
siderations. They are these : 

1. Always take for granted that the faculty are 
right in their requisition and in their discipline. They 
are commonly better informed than any one of the 
students, perhaps than all of them put together. They 
are far better judges than the students can be, as to 
W T hat is safe and proper, and tends to the real good 
of the institution. They are far more impartial than 
the subjects of discipline are likely to be. And they 
are incomparably more attached to the interests of the 
college, than you or any other student. It will, there- 
fore, be, on every account, safest and wisest always to 
take for granted, as a matter of course, that they are 
right ; and that you have nothing to do but to obey. 
The exceptions to this fixed principle will ever be 
found so " few and far between," that it may be safely 
assumed as a maxim that will seldom fail. 

2. Never listen to the complaints or the accusations 
of such of your fellow students as have been visited 
with the lash of discipline. You may rest assured that 
nothing of this kind comes upon any young .man with- 
out a cause. Turn away from his story. Encourage 
him not. Allow him not for one moment to imagine 
that he has gained either your confidence or your 
approbation. 



84 KEBELLIONS. 

3. Never attend any meeting of students called to 
petition for a redress of grievances at the hand of the 
faculty, unless it be, with dignified independence, to 
remonstrate in toto, and on principle, against the mea- 
sure. A redress of grievances, if such really exist, 
will be much more likely to be obtained by the private 
application of a few orderly students, than by a public 
and noisy combination. Put your name to no paper 
creating or encouraging any such combination. It 
may appear harmless and even commendable at first, 
but you know not to what it may grow. " The begin- 
ning of evil is like the letting out of water." That 
which appeared in the commencement a small and per- 
fectly manageable rill, may soon become an overwhelm- 
ing torrent, and bear away all before it. 

4. Never let it be borne to future times by the re- 
cords of Nassau Hall, that a son of your parents had 
affixed to his name, and to theirs, the stigma, that he 
had risen in rebellion against his Alma Mater, and 
had suffered the only capital punishment which a 
treason so base could incur — expulsion. 

There are, no doubt, other sources and forms of re- 
bellion than those which have been specified ; but they 
may all be reduced to the same general principles, and 
may all with propriety be treated in the same general 
manner. Sometimes they originate in dissatisfaction 
with the diet in the public refectory ; sometimes from 
the extent of the lessons assigned to the several 
classes ; and again, at other times, from the refusal of 
some solicited privilege or indulgence. Now it would 
be wrong to assert that the faculty of any college is 
infallible, or that either their interdicts or their pre- 
scriptions are always, of course, to be considered as 
right. But the fact is, that, even if, from error in 
judgment, they should sometimes happen to be wrong, 
it is a much smaller evil, in practice, to assume that 
in any given case they are right, and to decide and 
act accordingly, than to allow the students to sit in 
judgment upon their decisions and doings, and thus 



REBELLIONS. 85 

to be judges and jurymen in their own cause. The 
most learned and conscientious jurists presiding in a 
civil court, may decide erroneously. But suppose 
they do, what is the appropriate remedy ? To raise a 
mob in the court-house ? to explode gunpowder among 
the multitude, at the risk of life ? and to destroy the 
chairs, tables, and other furniture of the building? 
Would any of these either rectify the error in ques- 
tion, or promote the cause of substantial justice ? The 
very suggestion of such a method of redress is at once 
contemptible and shocking ; and those who should re- 
sort to it, would be deemed a set of silly infatuated 
savages. If the decision complained of is to be re- 
versed, the reversal is to be obtained by other and 
more peaceable measures. All the violence tends but 
to mischief, and must be severely punished, or ther.e 
will be an end of order and of justice. 

Precisely such are the principles which ought to be 
laid down concerning the decisions of a college faculty. 
They are probably right ; but, whether right or wrong, 
the very worst judges in the case are the rash, inexpe- 
rienced, and headstrong subjects of discipline. If 
every wayward child is permitted to review and reverse 
the sentences of wise and faithful parents, it is plain 
that domestic government and order will soon cease, 
and all parties be less safe and less happy. If unwise 
or oppressive measures on the part of the immediate 
government of a college are supposed by the reflecting 
and orderly portion of the pupils to exist, the only 
measures which ought to be thought of are two ; one, to 
send a small and respectful committee, made up of two 
or three of the students know T n to be among the most 
respected and confided in by the faculty, to present the 
humble statement and request of the whole body; and 
if this be not successful, the second step should be to 
appeal to the board of trustees. If by neither of 
these methods the object of the complainants can be 
obtained, the presumption is, either that the evils com- 
plained of are imaginary, or that, for the time beings 
8 



86 KEBELLIONS. 

they do not admit of a remedy. I have no recollection 
of any case in which an appeal to the board of trustees 
was followed with success to the appellants. The truth 
is, the faculty of every college are always under the 
temptation to go as far as they possibly can, consist- 
ently with duty, to gratify the students. Their own 
popularity and ease will, of course, in ordinary cases, 
induce to this. Seldom indeed will a calm and impar- 
tial body of guardians, having nothing to do with 
immediate instruction, lean more than they to the side 
of indulgence. 

There is a species of conduct on the part of students 
which sometimes occurs, which may, perhaps, be as 
appropriately mentioned in this letter as in any other. 
I refer to the case of those students who, in their ow r n 
estimation, and in that of their friends, are considered 
as having high claims to distinguished rank in the 
assignment of college honours : and when honours ade- 
quate to their expectations are not awarded to them, 
undertake to resent it as gross injustice, and either 
attempt to excite a mutiny in their behalf, or decline 
to receive the honour assigned them, and perhaps even 
refuse to speak at all at the ensuing commencement, 
and forfeit their graduation altogether. There is in 
all this an arrogance and presumption unworthy of 
young gentlemen' approaching the age of manhood. 
Who are the best judges of a student's proper merits 
and rank — himself, or the faculty, who have been 
watching over him, and labouring with him for years ? 
It is very possible, indeed, that a faculty may be guilty 
of great injustice in this matter. From some cause, and 
perhaps not a very laudable one, they may award to a 
candidate for graduation a rank decisively below that 
to which he is fairly entitled. But what then ? Is he 
or the faculty the regularly constituted judge in the 
case ? Every one knows it is the faculty. Will he be 
likely, then, to gain anything by resenting their award, 
or refusing to submit to it ? I will not venture to pro- 
nounce that no degree of injustice can warrant a stu- 



BEBELLIONS. 87 

dent in refusing to submit to it. But I have no recol- 
lection of having ever known such a case. Amidst all 
the instances of insubordinate conduct on such occa- 
sions which have come to my knowledge, I have never 
known one case in which the student who adopted this 
course gained any advantage by it. They have, in 
every case, lost the object which they sought, and been 
•regarded by all their enlightened and impartial friends 
as acting an unwise part. 



LETTER VII. 

HEALTH. 

"Non est vivere, sed valere vita. 

My Dear Sons — I need not say a word to you of 
the value of health. All know it. All acknowledge 
it. If I were to attempt formally to prove it, you 
would consider me as undertaking a needless task. 
And yet a large portion of mankind, and especially of 
the young, appear to be so unmindful of the value of 
this blessing, and so reckless of its preservation, that 
there is hardly any subject in regard to which unceas- 
ing lessons are more needed, or are given from time to 
time with less benefit. 

I once felt inclined to enter into cautions and coun- 
sels on this subject very much in detail ; but a growing 
impression of the difficulty of doing justice to it, and a 
fear of doing mischief by multiplying advices respect- 
ing it, induce me to be much more brief than I originally 
intended. All that I shall attempt is to give a few 
brief hints, which I hope will not be in vain ; but 
which, at the same time, I fear you will not appreciate 
as you ought, until the unhappy consequences of re- 
jecting them shall practically impress them on your 
minds. 

There are two extremes on this subject, to which 
young men are prone ; against both I am earnestly de- 
sirous of guarding you. The one is to imagine that the 
citadel of their health is impregnable ; that no care of 
it is necessary ; that they may take any liberties with 
it, and lay any burdens upon it that they please. This 
mistake leads to unlimited exposure, and an utter dis- 
(88) 



HEALTH. 89 

regard of all care and caution in avoiding the sources 
of disease. Hence it has happened that some of the 
most Herculean young men I have ever known, have 
been among the most short-lived ; simply because they 
had so much confidence in their health and strength, 
and were so persuaded that they could bear anything, 
that they took no care of themselves, until the finest 
constitutions were wrecked and destroyed. Some of 
the most striking examples of this have occurred, not 
only in Nassau Hall, but also in the classes with which 
you are familiar ; examples to which I cannot refer 
without the most mournful recollections. 

The other extreme to which I alluded, is that of those 
who imagine that great scrupulousness of attention, and 
the most vigilant care of health, are necessary to its 
preservation ; that a multitude of rigid cautions, a fre- 
quent resort to medicine, guarding against all exposure 
to cold and damp weather ; close and warm rooms, 
much wrapping up, &c. &c, are indispensable. The 
young man who acts upon this plan, will probably soon 
render himself a miserable invalid for life, if he do not 
speedily cut short his days. The truth is, that in this, 
as in a thousand other things, we may err as much, and 
as fatally, id over-doing as in under-doing ; and the 
path of wisdom is that of a happy medium between 
extremes. 

There are some general principles in the preserva- 
tion of health, to which I am earnestly desirous of 
directing your attention, and which, when they are re- 
garded with enlightened and discriminating care, may 
be considered as comprehending all others. Of these 
general principles, I shall now trouble you with only 
four, viz : — Be strictly temperate with regard to ali- 
ment. Take, every day, a large amount of gentle 
exercise. Carefully guard against all intestinal con- 
stipation. And always avoid too much warmth, both in 
your clothing and your apartment, quite as vigilantly 
as you do too much exposure to cold. 

1. With regard to the first, remember that temper- 
8* 



90 HEALTH. 

ate eating in you, is a very different thing from what 
it is in a day-labourer. The latter may, in common, 
safely and even profitably, take two or three times the 
amount of aliment, that can be ventured upon by a 
student, or by any sedentary person. If a given por- 
tion of solid food be found to oppress you, gradually 
diminish the quantity, carefully watching the effect, 
until you ascertain the quantity which is best suited to 
your constitution, and after taking which you feel most 
vigorous, active and comfortable, both in body and mind. 
It is plain that this matter can be regulated only by 
the individual himself; and that it requires daily watch- 
fulness and resolution. Many students, I have no 
doubt, injure their health, and some bring themselves, 
I am persuaded, to premature graves, by over-eating, 
as really as others do by over-drinking. The effects 
of the former species of excess are not quite so mani- 
fest, or quite so disreputable as those of the latter ; 
but, in a multitude of cases, they are no less fatal. 
And especially ought this strict guard, as to the quan- 
tity and quality of the aliment taken, to be exercised 
by those who cannot be persuaded to take the requisite 
amount of bodily exercise. To eat without restraint, 
while the latter is neglected, is perfect madness. The 
answer of Sir Charles Scarborough, physician to Charles 
II., to one of the courtiers of that monarch, is worthy 
of being remembered — "You must eat less, or take 
more exercise, or take physic, or be sick." This en- 
lightened man, physician to a profligate king, and a 
no less profligate court, presented the only alternatives 
by which the safety of our bodily condition can be 
secured. If I had a thousand voices, I would proclaim 
this response in every college, and to every studious 
young man in the land. However little it may be re- 
garded, the diet of a student is of more importance 
than can easily be described. It ought always to be 
simple. Luxuries, and especially a multiplicity of arti- 
ficial dishes, and the refinements of confectionery, 
ought to be avoided with sacred care. Dr. Franklin 



HEALTH. 91 

always lived on the simplest food, and with the strictest 
guard against every inordinate indulgence. We are 
also told that his habit was to go without his dinner 
one day in every week. This he called ic giving nature 
a holiday ;" that his stomach might not be injured by 
being kept too constantly at hard work. 

If at any time you feel unwell, stop eating until you 
are better. This was the practice of Bacon, of Napo- 
leon, and of a host of other eminent men, with whose 
histories we are familiar. When they were attacked 
with feverish feelings, they either fasted strictly, for 
twenty-four or even forty-eight hours ; or at any rate, 
took nothing but a few spoonfuls of some simple liquid 
to sustain nature, and to allay the importunity of hun- 
ger, until their morbid sensations were removed. Few 
people are aware that, when they are sick, food does 
them little or no good, or rather only adds to the burden 
of the febrile affection. I have no doubt that a large 
portion of diseases, and especially of those which attack 
the youthful frame, where there is no morbid diathesis 
of a chronic character, would readily yield to a day or 
two of rigid fasting alone. It is because few people 
can endure the self-denial requisite for this purpose, 
that they prefer the removal of their ailments by the 
extemporaneous application of the lancet, or the stores 
of the materia medica. This is a very impolitic plan 
of procedure. It is violently interfering with the regu- 
lar order of our frame, when the vis medicatrix natures, 
if left to itself, would do the work much better. These 
remarks are of course not intended to apply to cases of 
violent attacks of inflammatory disease, where conges- 
tion, or lesion in vital organs, indicated by much pain, is 
to be apprehended ; but chiefly to those cases in which 
obscure feverish feelings indicate the approach, rather 
than the decisive onset of disease. In cases which mark 
the approach, or the actual attack of acute disease, med- 
ical advice ought to be sought without loss of time. 

2. The importance of taking a large portion of gen- 
tle exercise every day, can scarcely be overrated. 



92 HEALTH. 

Every student who wishes to preserve good health and 
spirits, ought to be moving about in the open air from 
three to four hours daily. You may live with less, 
and, possibly, enjoy tolerable health. But if you 
wish fully to possess the mens sana in corpore sano, 
of which the Latin poet speaks, rely upon it, with 
most students, less will not answer. I have said that 
your exercise ought to be gentle. Some students, 
after exhausting themselves by a protracted period of 
severe study of some hours, start from their seats, 
issue forth, and engage in some violent exercise, which 
throws them into a profuse perspiration, from which 
they can scarcely escape with impunity. In many 
such cases, they had much better have continued to 
sit still. After coming to a pause in my exertion, 
and resuming my seat, I have found it difficult to 
avoid taking cold, unless I would continue the perspi- 
ration, or the state of temperature approaching it, by 
wrapping myself up in a cloak, and remaining so until 
the perspiration had entirely subsided. This is a pre- 
caution which is troublesome, and will be submitted to 
by few. 

Your exercise ought to bear strict proportion to 
your constitution and your habits. Gentle exercise, 
diffused through three or four hours, is much better 
adapted to a sedentary man, than a concentration of 
the same amount of muscular motion, within a single 
hour or less. It is also worthy of remark, that exer- 
cise taken either immediately before, or immediately 
after eating, is both less comfortable, and less valu- 
able, than if at least an hour of rest be suffered to in- 
tervene. No prudent traveller will feed his horse 
immediately after his arrival at the place of baiting ; 
or, if he can avoid it, put him on the road again as 
soon as he has swallowed his food. The same principle 
applies to all animal nature. 

But there is a class of cases, in regard to exercise, 
to which a special reference ought to be made here. 
Sometimes young men come to college, who have been 



HEALTH. 93 

accustomed to active, and, it may be, to laborious 
lives in the pure air of the country, and who commence 
study with firm and florid health. Scarcely any, in 
this situation, are fully aware of the danger they en- 
counter in sitting down to close intellectual application. 
I have often known a constitution the most robust, 
suddenly to give way, in six or nine months after this 
change of habit, and become utterly broken and pros- 
trated. The truth is, a young man of the most robust 
and florid health, who addresses himself suddenly to a 
season of close study, is more apt — contrary to the 
common impression — far more apt to suffer severely 
from close mental and sedentary occupation, than one 
of a more lax fibre, and long accustomed to study. I 
can call to mind some of the most melancholy examples 
of this fact, in which, from not being apprised of the 
principle which it involves, the calamity came on al- 
most with the suddenness and violence of a whirlwind, 
before the sufferers were aware. 

3. My third advice has a respect to intestinal con- 
stipation. There can be no health, where this is 
suffered long to continue. And yet it is a point to 

-which few inexperienced students are as attentive as 
they ought to be. They either neglect it, until a de- 
cisive indisposition convinces them of their folly ; or 
they are very frequently endeavouring to remove it by 
the use of medicine. Both methods of treating the 
difficulty are miserably ill-judged. Medicine ought to 
be the last resort ; and is seldom necessary, unless 
where there has been great mismanagement. Gentle 
exercise, abstemiousness, and the judicious use of mild 
dietetical aperients, (which are different w T ith different 
people, and must be matter of experiment,) form the 
system which a little experience will show you to be the 
best. If, instead of this course, you go on eating as 
usual, and adhere as closely to your seat as at other 
times, you will probably not escape a serious indisposi- 
tion. 

4. The temperature of your room, and of your body, 



94 HEALTH. 

is the last of the general principles in reference to 
health, to which I shall request your attention. A 
Student, whose robustness is almost always in some de- 
gree impaired by sedentary habits, ought never to allow 
himself, if he can avoid it, to sit in a cold room, or in 
a current of cold air. I think I have known some 
young persons to contract fatal diseases by inadvert- 
ently allowing themselves to occupy such a situation 
even for a short time, especially when heated. But it 
is nearly, if not quite, as unfriendly to health, for a 
student to allow himself to be overheated, either by 
the atmosphere of a room excessively warmed, or by 
too great a load of clothing, either in bed or out of it. 
Everything of this kind ought to be carefully avoided. 
So far as my own experience goes, I am constrained to 
say, that excessive heat has been quite as often to me 
the source of disease, as excessive cold. He who is 
about to take a long walk, in the course of which he 
has an opportunity of keeping himself warm by con- 
stant, vigorous motion, ought just as carefully to avoid 
covering himself with an overcoat while his walk con- 
tinues, as he ought to be to avoid sitting in a cold 
place, or in a draft of air, at the end of his walk,' 
without it. No ceremony, no consideration whatever, 
ought to prevent his avoiding such a place, in such cir- 
cumstances, with the most scrupulous decision. 

You will gather from the foregoing remarks, that 
my plan for preserving health, is by no means that of 
tampering with medicines, or of perpetual nursing, or 
wrapping up, and avoiding the open air ; a plan much 
more likely to make a valetudinarian, than a man of 
good health ; but that of employing wisely and vigi- 
lantly the great art of prevention. Those who are 
already favoured with good health, and a sound con- 
stitution, ought to study to retain the blessings, by 
avoiding every species of excess, and by guarding 
against every approach to a derangement of the sys- 
tem ; and, under the blessing of God, all will be well. 

But while I give these counsels in regard to the 



HEALTH. 95 

general health, I feel that there is no less need of 
some advices concerning particular organs of the body, 
which are exceedingly apt to suffer from the want of 
skill or attention in their management. 

There is no organ of the human body more apt to 
become disordered by indiscreet or careless use than 
the eyes. What with protracted night studies, the 
unskilful use of candle and lamp-light, the reading of 
much small and indistinct print, and the prolonged 
and overstrained application of the eyes in any way, 
they are so much injured by many students before they 
leave college, that they are, in a great measure, dis- 
abled from the enjoyment of study for the remainder 
of their lives. It is well known that the justly cele- 
brated President Dwight, by the excessive use of his 
eyes by candle-light, while he was in college, brought 
on a disease of that organ from which he never re- 
covered, wdiich gave him much pain, and compelled 
him to employ the eyes of others in a large part of 
the studies of his subsequent life. 

In regard to this subject I would earnestly recom- 
mend to your attention the following counsels. 

Avoid as much as you possibly can studying by 
candle-light. Begin your studies with the dawn of 
day, and improve every moment of day -light that you 
can secure. Study at a late hour at night ought 
never to be indulged in by any one who values his 
health. Two hours' sleep before midnight are worth 
three if not four after it. He who allows himself fre- 
quently to remain at his studies after ten o'clock in 
the evening, is probably laying up in store for himself 
bitter repentance. 

Further, beware, in night studies, of the use of such 
lamps, or other lights, as, by means of reflectors, pour 
an intense light on your book or paper. Lamps or 
other lights of this kind, furnished with shades, while 
they undoubtedly shield the eyes from injury, by the 
direct rays of light, which is the object aimed at, are 
apt to do much more injury, by rendering the reflected 



96 HEALTH. 

light more vivid and dazzling. In fact, instead of 
protecting or favouring the eyes, they are apt to im- 
pair the soundest vision, and have proved in many 
eases extremely hurtful. If a shade be used at all, it 
ought not to be placed on the lamp or candlestick 
itself, for the purpose of casting the light down with 
more intensity ; but on the forehead of the student, 
merely to prevent the direct rays of light from striking 
on his eyes. Indeed, a common hat itself would be 
one of the best screens with which to read or write at 
night, were it not for the danger of keeping the head 
too warm, and thus laying the foundation of various 
countervailing evils. This is mentioned only for the 
purpose of pointedly warning against it. A very light 
shade, made to fasten over the eyes, without covering 
the head, would be in every respect preferable. 

Let me advise you to do all your writing in a stand- 
ing posture. This has been my own constant practice 
for nearly fifty years ; and I am constrained, from 
ample experience, to recommend it as attended with 
many advantages. If you write at a common table, 
the probability, and certainly the danger is, that you 
will contract a crooked, half-bent mode of sitting, 
which will materially injure your health. Writing- 
chairs are very much in vogue with many students. 
But, if I am not greatly deceived, they are pestiferous 
things, w T hich do ten times as much harm as good. It 
is almost impossible to write on them without incurring 
an unequal and mischievous pressure on one side. In- 
deed, a gentleman of much experience and careful ob- 
servation lately assured me, that he had procured almost 
the entire banishment of such chairs from an important 
literary institution, with which he was connected, on 
account of the serious mischief which he found them 
to produce to the persons and general health of the 
student. If you write standing, and guard against 
pressing the breast bone on the edge of the desk, but 
rest altogether on your arms, I am persuaded you will 
find it a method attended with fewer inconveniences 



HEALTH. 97 

and dangers than any other. On this plan, no part 
of the body is in a constrained posture, and the circu- 
lation is wholly unobstructed. Besides, if you read 
sitting, as most people do, it will create an agreeable 
variety if you rise when you begin to write. 

Pay particular attention to your teeth. By this I 
do not mean that you should be continually going to 
the dentist ; and far less that you should abound in ap- 
plications to the teeth of various tooth-powders, which 
too commonly partake of acid qualities, which cannot 
fail of corroding, and of course injuring them. I be- 
lieve that, in most cases, applying a little clean water, 
in which a small portion of common salt has been dis- 
solved, with a soft brush, to the teeth, on rising in the 
morning, and just before retiring to rest at night, will 
be quite sufficient to preserve a pure and healthful state 
of the mouth. The evils arising from the neglect or 
mismanagement of the teeth are not only numerous, 
but most serious. Diseased gums and teeth, fetid 
breath, toothache, early loss of teeth, interfering with 
the mastication of food, and destroying the power of 
distinct articulate speech, are among the natural and 
inevitable results. Often, very often, have I seen fine 
young men, who had originally strong and beautiful 
sets of teeth, from gross negligence, or from unhappy 
management, presenting diseased and offensive mouths 
before they were twenty-five, and obliged to come for- 
ward, to the pulpit or the bar, with mouths full of substi- 
tutes provided by the dentist, which, though exceedingly 
valuable, are both defective and troublesome. 

In my letter on temperance, I have dwelt largely on 
the importance of that virtue to health, and earnestly 
hope that my sons will seriously regard my counsels on 
this subject, for the sake of their physical, as well as 
their moral welfare. But there are various stimulants 
beside strong drink, against which I would put you on 
your guard. The moderate use of common salt is, I 
believe, generally considered by wise physiologists as 
indispensable to the healthful condition of animal life; 
9 



98 HEALTH. 

and it therefore ought to enter, under proper regula- 
tion, into our daily food. But this regulation is ex- 
ceedingly important. The excessive use of this article 
has led to serious evils, and must be considered as 
highly insalubrious. I dislike to see young persons 
using mustard, pepper, and especially cayenne pepper, 
as necessary to give their food an acceptable relish. 
All these things, together with the pungent orien- 
tal soys, and pickles, I would advise you never to use ; 
or at any rate never to use them habitually or freely. 
They are all stimulants, and some of them highly 
stimulating in their character ; and of course their ten- 
dency is largely to expend the sensorial power of the 
human system, and prematurely to wear out the vital 
principle. Perhaps it may be said that some very 
pleasant dishes require condiments of this kind, to assist 
digestion and render them safely eatable. But surely 
every wise student, if he values his constitution, and 
desires to enjoy comfortable health, will rather abstain 
from dishes which require a very vigorous stomach to 
digest, than resort to violent and injurious means for 
rendering them harmless. 

The ways in which young men in college endanger 
their health are so numerous, that it is difficult to go 
sufficiently into detail to meet all cases. But there is 
one habit so replete with danger, and yet so common, 
that I feel constrained to single it out for warning, — 
I mean the practice of sitting, and especially lying on 
the damp ground, in warm weather ; — a practice from 
w T hich severe diseases, and the loss of life have often 
been derived. It is indeed wonderful that thinking 
youth are so often found indulging in this perilous im- 
prudence. 

Lying long in bed in the morning, is very unfriendly 
to health and long life. It is at once a symptom 
and a cause of feeble digestion, of nervous debility, 
and of general languor. Whereas, early rising is com- 
monly connected with sound sleep, with elasticity of 
body and mind, and with habits of activity, which are 



HEALTH. 99 

greatly conducive both to health and comfort. Nor is 
this practice less conducive to success in mental im- 
provement. It not only tends to give a daily spring 
to the mind, but also to make a very important addi- 
tion to the studying hours of the student, and to pro- 
mote long life. It was the remark, if I mistake not, 
of the celebrated Lord Mansfield, that illustrious Eng- 
lish judge, that among all the very aged men whom he 
had been called to examine in his court, he could not 
recollect one that was not an early riser. 

I have only one advice more to offer in regard to 
your health. It is that you never pursue your studies 
to the length of exhaustion ; that you never urge your- 
selves to the fulfilment of a prescribed task when sick- 
ness renders all mental effort painful and oppressive. 
By such pressure the mind is jaded and injured, and 
no valuable acquisition can be made. It is not only 
up-hill work ; but any real progress, in these circum- 
stances, is seldom made. In all mental efforts it is 
best to leave off before reaching the point of fatigue. 
When we go on beyond that point, we may be said, in 
general, to lose more than we gain. 



LETTER VIII. 
TEMPERANCE. 

IIa$ Ss 6 dycavi^o^hvo^ Ttdvta, iyxpatsvstiac. — 1 Cor. IX. 25. 

My Dear Sons— You will, perhaps, ask why I de- 
vote a whole letter to the subject of temperance, when 
I have already employed one in relation to morals in 
general, which might be supposed to include the whole 
department of duty to which it belongs ? I reply, that 
I regard the subject of strict temperance as so deeply 
interesting, so vital to the physical well-being, as well 
as to the moral welfare, and true honour of a student, 
that I consider no method of making it prominent, and 
of adding to its impressiveness in this code of counsels, 
as going beyond its unspeakable importance. 

I scarcely ever think of exhorting young men on the 
subject of temperance, without recollecting an occur- 
rence in my native town, more than half a century ago, 
which conveyed a lesson to me, at once striking and 
solemn, A father, who had found a son of eighteen or 
nineteen years of age, disorderly and unmanageable, 
proposed to place him under the care and government 
of a friend at some distance, who had a high reputation 
for skill and energy in managing disorderly and vicious 
young men. When the father appeared before this 
friend with his dissipated and intractable son, he 
thought himself bound, both in duty and policy, to dis- 
close all the principal faults with which his son was 
chargeable, without disguise or softening. He began, 
by saying, " My son is in grain lazy, and cannot be 
(100) 



TEMPERANCE. 101 

prevailed upon by any influence that I can employ to 
pursue any occupation." " I am sorry to hear it," said 
his friend, " but I have been able to reclaim many a 
youth from habits of inveterate idleness." Again, said 
the father, " My son is grievously profane, and has 
given me much distress by his impious language." 
" That is bad," said the friend, " but I do not despair 
of curing him of that fault, distressing as it may be." 
" That is not all," said the father ; " he will lie, notwith- 
standing all that I can do to show him the sin and the 
disgrace of that practice." " That is, indeed, a dread- 
ful fault," said the friend, "but there is hope of re- 
claiming him even from that habit, vile and degrading 
as it undoubtedly is." "I have one more of his faults 
to mention," said the father. " He has lately mani- 
fested a fondness for strong drink, and, when intoxi- 
cated, has given me much trouble." " Ah, is it indeed 
so ?" said the friend — " then there is no hope for him ! 
You must take him away. I can do him no good. He 
will never be cured of that vice." This case actually 
happened. The result was as predicted. The unhappy 
young man was taken home again; became more and 
more sottish; and not long afterwards died a miserable 
drunkard, the grief and disgrace of his family. And 
such, I am persuaded, will very seldom fail to be the 
case with a youthful tippler. Perhaps, indeed, my 
countryman, in pronouncing concerning the son of his 
friend, that he would never reform, was rather too 
prompt and summary in his sentence. I will not say 
that the recovery of a youth from that vice is in no 
case to be hoped for. We have reason to be thankful 
that such a favourable event has sometimes occurred. 
Nay, among the late triumphs of the temperance cause, 
we have seen cases of such reformation occurring much 
more frequently than in former times. Still, of all 
sinners, I am inclined to think that the lover of intoxi- 
cating drinks is among the most hopeless. It is for 
this reason that I call your attention to the subject of 
temperance, with all the emphasis and solemnity of 
9* 



102 TEMPERANCE. 

which I am capable ; and would say, in the language 
of holy writ — "He that hath ears to hear, let him 
hear!" 

I need not remind you, my dear sons, that the young 
are peculiarly apt to be ensnared and ruined by stimu- 
lating drinks. They are proverbially fond of company 
and of excitement ; having ardent, and too often un- 
governable feelings, with little experience, and a prone- 
ness to reject the counsels of age and wisdom, no won- 
der that they are often borne away by the intoxicating 
draught to insane revelry, to ruinous disorders, and to 
the wreck of everything good for time and eternity. 
0, if you had known, as I have, the mischiefs gene- 
rated in colleges by strong drink ; how many amiable 
and promising young men have been led on from occa- 
sional indulgence to abandoned sottishness ; and in 
how many instances young men of polished manners 
have been betrayed by the stimulus of drink into acts 
of disorder, and even brutal violence, leading to their 
temporary suspension from college, and even to their 
ignominious expulsion, and final ruin, you would not 
wonder that I speak to you on this subject with so 
much earnestness and importunity. 

You are, no doubt, aware that the laws of the col- 
lege not only prohibit all intemperate drinking, but 
that they forbid every student to keep in his room any 
ardent spirits, or fermented liquors of any kind; and 
that any such article being found in the room of a 
student, without permission, is a punishable offence. 
When you recollect that such a law has been framed 
and placed in your code by men of wisdom and expe- 
rience, and that it belongs to the system of all col- 
leges, I am persuaded that you will regard it with ap- 
probation, as not at all needlessly strict, and that you 
will feel bound to obey it to the letter, and with scru- 
pulous care. 

Do you not know that all alcoholic and fermented 
liquors, even those of the mildest form, when taken 
habitually, or even frequently, excite the nervous sys- 



TEMPERANCE. 103 

tern, and thus derange the healthy action of that sys- 
tem ; that they injure the tone of the stomach ; that 
they create a craving thirst, which cannot be satisfied 
without an increase of the same potation which created 
it ; that they slowly but radically, in most cases, affect 
the liver, and lay the foundation of many loathsome 
and fatal chronic diseases ; that when he who is accus- 
tomed to the use of stimulating drinks, in any degree, 
does become sick, his restoration to health is less pro- 
bable, and even when it is effected, more slow, because 
his habit of body interferes with the operation of ap- 
propriate remedies, rendering them less active, and, 
of course, less useful ? If you are not aware of all 
these indubitable facts, it is high time that you should 
recognize and be convinced of them, and begin that 
system of entire abstinence from all stimulating drink, 
which can alone ensure your safety. 

Young men are apt to imagine that they are in no 
danger from this vice. They are each ready to say, 
with the youthful and inexperienced Syrian of old — 
" What, is thy servant a dog that he should do this 
thing?" But there is no vice in the world more al- 
luring, more insidious, or more apt to gain the mastery 
over those who imagine themselves to be in no danger 
from its power. Strong drink of any kind excites the 
feelings. This excitement, by a well-known law of our 
physical constitution, is, of course, followed by a cor- 
responding nervous depression. This is always more 
or less painful. A sense of physical want is created. , 
The temptation to recur to the stimulus which pro- 
duced the preceding excitement will probably be too 
strong to be resisted. Every successive repetition of 
the stimulus will increase the craving appetite, and, of 
course, strengthen the temptation to repeat from day 
to day the mischievous remedy. Thus have thousands, 
who never dreamed of being drunkards, been led on 
from one stage of indulgence to another, as the ox is 
unconsciously led to the slaughter — "till," as the wise 
man expresses it — " a dart strikes through his liver, 



104 TEMPERANCE. 

and he knows not that it is for his life." All this, 
which applies to thousands who scarcely ever read a 
book, applies with peculiar force to youthful students, 
who are more apt than others to suffer a depression of 
animal feeling, and to be betrayed into a love of some 
artificial excitement. 

It ought to be remembered, too, that the indulgence 
in stimulating drinks is peculiarly injurious to the 
youthful frame. By this is meant that habits of tip- 
pling commenced in early life, are always found to un- 
dermine the health, and work their usual mischiefs, 
more speedily than when the indulgence is commenced 
in more advanced age. In regard to persons in mid- 
dle life, and especially those still further advanced, when 
their bodies have attained more maturity of growth, 
and firmness of fibre, although the ravages made by 
stimulating drink are deplorably apparent, and finally 
fatal ; yet it is observable that the human frame, under 
these ravages, bears up longer, and seems harder to 
be vanquished than in the more youthful subject. This 
is more tender, more excitable, more easily deranged, 
and, of course, more speedily prostrated, than the aged 
frame. Accordingly, it has been remarked, by expe- 
rienced, sagacious observers, that when a young person 
of eighteen or twenty years of age begins to indulge, 
even in a small degree, in strong drink, his bodily 
strength is soon undermined, and he commonly falls an 
early prey to the destroyer. 

Listen, then, my dear sons, to an affectionate father, 
when, with all that earnestness which long experience 
and deep conviction warrant, he entreats you to eschew 
and avoid all use whatever of stimulating drinks. 
Touch nothing of the kind as an ordinary beverage. 
Drink nothing but water, and you will be the better 
for it as long as you live. I believe that intoxicating 
drinks do not help, but injure nine hundred and ninety- 
nine out of every thousand of those w T ho use them ; 
and that their entire banishment from literary institu- 
tions is so unspeakably desirable, that it is better — far 



TEMPERANCE. 105 

better that the thousandth person should suffer a 
little for want of them, than that their disuse in all 
colleges should not be complete. j 

These being my views, it has given me great plea- 
sure to learn, that a society has been formed in your 
college, embracing the pledge of " total abstinence 
from all that can intoxicate." I know that some, both 
in and out of college, consider this as a fanatical ex- 
treme, and set their faces against it. This is not my 
opinion. I am persuaded that temperance societies, 
on the "total abstinence" plan, have done much good, 
and are likely to do much more. What though they 
have been carried on by agents of suspicious character, 
and recommended by arguments of a worse than sus- 
picious kind ? The best things have been perverted, 
but ought not, on that account, to be disused. It is 
my earnest advice, therefore, that you should become 
members of the society alluded to, and not only ad- 
here to its pledge with sacred fidelity, but endeavour 
to promote its popularity and influence by all the 
means in your power. True, indeed, some of the ad- 
vocates of "total abstinence" urge their doctrine by 
arguments, which I can by no means sustain. They 
tell us that the word of God gives no countenance to 
the use of fermented wine, in any case whatever, and 
that it is not lawful to use such wine at the Lord's 
table. In these positions I cannot concur. They ap- 
pear to me unscriptural, and in respect to the Lord's 
Supper, directly to set at defiance the Saviour's express 
command. I can never believe, that he instituted 
an ordinance, the tendency of which is to make men 
drunkards. Still, so far as the advocates of the doc- 
trine in question come to the practical result, that all 
persons in health ought to abstain from all intoxicating 
drink, as an ordinary beverage, for the promotion of 
their own well-being, and on the principle of expedi- 
ency, for discouraging their use by others, I am cordi- 
ally with them, and sincerely wish that all college stu- 
dents in the land were banded in such associations. 



106 TEMPERANCE. 

You know that I never set any alcoholic or fermented 
liquors on my own table. This has been my practice 
for many years ; and I have adopted the practice from 
a conscientious persuasion that my own health, and 
that of all my family is benefited by it ; and also from 
an earnest desire to promote, by my example, the ban- 
ishment of all such drinks from all classes of society. 
When I see so many around me, young and old, falling 
victims to the use of such drinks ; and especially when 
I see so many young men of the finest minds, and de- 
voted to literary pursuits, led astray, and some of them 
finally ruined in body and mind by this deceiver, can 
you wonder that I am unable to restrain my pen when 
the subject is in question ? Can you consider any zeal as 
excessive, which contemplates the banishment of intoxi- 
cating drinks in every form from the precincts of our 
literary institutions ? As a friend to my species, I feel 
constrained to do all in my power, to discourage the 
use of this insidious poison. It is no sacrifice to me to 
abstain from all intoxicating drinks myself. On the 
contrary, my firm persuasion is, that, by this abstinence, 
I promote my own present enjoyment, and that of my 
children. But even if it were otherwise, I should feel 
myself abundantly rewarded for the sacrifice, by the 
consciousness of pursuing a course adapted to discour- 
age and diminish the use of one of the most destruc- 
tive agents that ever cursed the human family. And 
if I can prevail on my children to enter into the spirit 
of this principle, and not only to begin, in the morn- 
ing of life, to restrain their own appetites, but also to 
co-operate cordially in a plan for the benefit of others, 
it will afford me unspeakable gratification, as a pledge 
that they will prove benefactors to the world. 

If you desire, my dear sons, to avoid the degrading 
snare of stimulating drinks, avoid, I beseech you, all 
the company which will be likely to lead to it. In- 
temperance is, generally, and especially in its begin- 
nings, a social vice. As " one sinner," in all the walks 
of life, " destroys much good ;■" so it is eminently true, 



TEMPERANCE. 107 

that one votary of this kind of excitement can hardly 
fail of endangering the virtue of others. Fly from the 
society of all such as you would from the most deadly 
plague. If you know of any room in which stimulat- 
ing drink of any kind is kept, avoid it as you would 
the room of a counterfeiter, or receiver of stolen goods. 
If you enter it, none can tell what may be the conse- 
quence. Even if you should not be tempted to par- 
take of the interdicted draught, who can assure you 
that your character may not be unexpectedly impli- 
cated by your being found or seen in the infected re- 
gion ? 

In fact, any student of college who finds the stimu- 
lus of company necessary to his comfort, ought to con- 
sider himself as on the verge of a fatal gulf. He 
who cannot be comfortable in the retirement of his 
study ; who does not feel the acquirement of know- 
ledge a rich gratification, but finds the excitement of 
company, and the social song indispensable to his en- 
joyment, has the most reason to be alarmed for his 
safety. The vital principle of intemperance has al- 
ready taken up its abode in his person, and without a 
miracle, will probably make him its victim. 

I should be utterly ashamed, my clear sons, to plead 
so much at length, a cause so plain, and so manifestly 
important, and indeed vital, as that of temperance, 
were it not that, after all, some young men are so in- 
fatuated, nay so suicidal as to disregard all warning, 
and plunge into the gulf of infamy and perdition, in 
sight of the many beacons erected to guard them 
against it. Every one who has eyes to see, perceives 
that, when young men, under the excitement of com- 
pany, have intoxicating drink within their reach, they 
will seldom fail to abuse it. Every one is forced to 
acknowledge that nine-tenths of all the disorders and 
crimes in colleges, as well as in the civil community, 
arise directly or indirectly from the excitement of ine- 
briating liquors ; and yet young men, who claim to 
have both talents and moral principle, are neither 



108 TEMPERANCE. 

afraid nor ashamed to seek the intoxicating cup, and 
feel as if they had gained a triumph when they can 
enjoy the privilege of making brutes -of themselves ! 

I will add here, that if you wish to avoid the gulf 
of intemperance, you must by all means avoid the use 
of tobacco in any form. There are few things more 
adapted to inspire disgust on the score of manners, or 
deep apprehension for the future welfare of young 
men, than to see them puffing their cigars in the faces 
of all who approach them, or chewing their nauseous 
quids, and squirting their filthy saliva in every direc- 
tion. The mischiefs wrought on the human system by 
this narcotic weed, are so many and serious, that the 
only wonder is, that any intelligent young man, who 
does not wish to court disease and danger should allow 
himself to use it. I do not say that every one who 
uses it incurs the mischiefs to which I refer ; but I 
assert that every one is in danger of incurring them, 
and that if he escapes, it is not owing to any want of 
evil tendency in the indulgence itself, but to the favour 
of a merciful Providence. There can be no doubt 
that both chewing and smoking tobacco, especially the 
former, have been the means of making thousands of 
drunkards. 

Do you ask what connection exists between the 
use of tobacco and the habit of intemperance in 
drinking ? I answer, great every way. Do you not 
know that that filthy and pernicious weed, when either 
chewed or smoked, is a strong exciter of the nervous 
system ; and that, of course, it deranges the natural 
and healthful action of that system ? Do you not 
know that it impairs the appetite; that it interferes 
with the regular digestion of food; that it often in- 
duces distressing and incurable diseases, not only of 
the stomach, but also of the whole body ? Are you 
not aware that the progress of morbid habit in the use 
of tobacco, is exactly the same as in the use of 
spirituous liquors ? The slaves of it begin with what 
they call the temperate, and even sparing, use of the 



TEMPERANCE. 109 

article. They take, perhaps, a single cigar, or a single 
quid, or a single pinch of snuff, in a given number of 
hours. But, after a while, the appetite for this indul- 
gence is ever craving and never satisfied ; the sensi- 
bility of the body of course diminishes with the in- 
crease of the frequency and quantity of the stimulus ; 
until, at last, the miserable individual is wretched 
without it ; and when he cannot obtain the indulgence, 
is reduced to a state of suffering more distressing than 
when tortured by the most importunate hunger. I 
have often known persons, when deprived of the use 
of tobacco for a few hours, wholly unfit for either 
study or conversation, and thrown into a state of agi- 
tation but little short of mental derangement. Is it 
wise in any one to create such an artificial craving as 
may make him the sport of circumstances, and the 
absence of a paltry indulgence destructive to his com- 
fort, and even, for a time, to his usefulness ? 

It has been said, indeed, that chewing and smoking 
tobacco, assist the operations of the mind ; that they 
produce a soothing and quickening influence which is 
friendly to study, and especially to all works of com- 
position and eloquence. But do not ardent spirits and 
wine give insidious aid of the same kind ; and is not 
the ultimate effect, in both cases, deceptive and often 
fatal ? 

Nor is the tendency of tobacco less obvious to pro- 
duce ultimate intemperance in the use of distilled and 
fermented liquors. One of the usual effects of smo- 
king and chewing is thirst. This thirst cannot be al- 
layed by water ; for no insipid beverage will be relished 
when the mouth and throat have been exposed to the 
stimulus of the smoke or juice of tobacco. A desire 
is, of course, excited for strong drink ; and this, when 
taken between meals, will soon lead to habits of intoxi- 
cation. I have seen so many chewers and smokers 
ensnared into the inordinate love of inebriating drinks, 
that I always tremble when I see any one, and es- 
pecially a young person, becoming fond of the cigar or 
10 



110 TEMPEKANCE. 

the quid, and consider him as on the verge of a preci- 
pice. 

I have forborne to say anything of the enormous 
expense of smoking, especially as this indulgence is 
conducted by some students of reckless habits. I can- 
not doubt that some members of colleges have added 
one hundred dollars a year to the other charges of 
their education, for this hateful and offensive indul- 
gence alone ; in a few cases perhaps double that sum. 
How a young man of reflection has been able to settle 
such an account with his own conscience, and with an 
affectionate parent, who was, perhaps, denying himself 
for the sake of furnishing the requisite funds for a 
beloved son, I know not. I am constrained to think 
less of the moral sentiments, as well as of the under- 
standing, of one who is capable of reconciling himself 
to such extravagance for so hateful and injurious a 
purpose. 

My opposition to the use of tobacco in the form of 
snuff is scarcely less decisive than that to the other 
forms of this noxious weed. The effects of snuff in 
affecting the voice, the complexion, and the nervous sys- 
tem, are well known to all persons of much observation. 
I have seen deplorable cases of nasal obstruction, of 
nervous tremulousness, and various forms of disease 
induced by this disgusting habit ; and every young 
person who indulges in it in any degree, is in danger 
of being led on by degrees, until he shall become a dis- 
tress to himself, and an offence to all who approach 
him. 

Let me entreat you, then, my dear sons, never to 
indulge in the use of tobacco in any form, or in any 
degree. Whether the temptation assail you by assum- 
ing the guise of a remedy for some disease, or as a 
source of social enjoyment, believe not its promises. 
It is a deceiver, and will, sooner or later, give reason 
for repentance. 

The late Dr. Franklin, a few months before his 
death, declared to a friend, that he had never used 



TEMPERANCE. Ill 

tobacco in any way in the course of a long life ; and 
that one striking fact had exerted much influence on 
his mind in relation to this practice, viz : that he never 
had met with any one who was addicted to the use of 
it who advised him to follow his example. I will add 
to this statement another of similar and still more de- 
cisive import. I never yet met with a large consumer 
of tobacco in any form, who, when interrogated on the 
subject, did not say, that if he had to live his life over 
again, he would avoid the habit which had made him its 
slave ; and that he would by no means advise his 
children to do as he had done. 

I expressed an opinion, on a preceding page, that 
you ought to make water your only common beverage. 
My own personal experience, as well as close observa- 
tion on the habits of others, convince me of the wisdom 
of this advice. If you wish to live out all your days, 
and to possess a sound mind in a sound body, drink 
nothing else, as a habit. But you may drink too 
much, even of water. The habit of incessantly guz- 
zling even this simple and innocent fluid, either marks 
the existence of disease, or will probably lead to it. 
It indicates the presence, or the approach of a feverish 
diathesis ; or if it do not spring from the power of dis- 
ease already formed, it will be likely, by deluging the 
Stomach with fluid, by diluting the gastric juice, and 
thus impairing its appropriate power, to interfere with 
digestion, and, of course, to impair the health. Thirst 
is quite as well slaked, in my experience, by two or 
three spoonfuls as by a pint or a quart ; and all be- 
yond this moderate portion tends rather to load the 
stomach than to refresh and nourish. The habit of 
flooding the stomach with fluids is, undoubtedly, to 
most people, very injurious. The drier our food when 
we receive it the better. At least all my observation 
leads me so to pronounce. 

Besides, if I mistake not, I have had occasion to re- 
mark, that the habit of intemperance in drinking even 
water is apt ultimately to betray those who indulge it, 



112 TEMPERANCE. 

into the intemperate use of intoxicating drinks. Where 
persons find perpetual drinking necessary to their com- 
fort; where they have induced a constant artificial 
thirst, and are continually moistening their lips and 
fauces with the mildest fluid ; what can be more natural 
than gradually to slide into the use of something more 
sapid and stimulating? The incessant drinker will 
seldom be long together satisfied with water alone. 



LETTER IX. 



THE FORMATION AND THE VALUE OF CHARACTER. 



" Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatso- 
ever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ; if 
there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these 
things." — Philip, iv. 8. 



My Dear Sons — I take for granted that you have 
a laudable desire to maintain an elevated character, not 
only among your fellow students, but also in general 
society, and throughout life. I have no objection to 
styling this desire a commendable ambition. I am 
aware that the term ambition is generally used in a bad 
sense, and that it is not commonly numbered among 
the Christian virtues. But I am unwilling that the devil 
should appropriate such an expressive and convenient 
word to his own use. Ambition may be groveling and 
criminal, or it may be elevated and noble. It is always 
the latter when its object is the attainment of true ex- 
cellence, and the enjoyment of high esteem among the 
wise and the good. The Latin scholar will immediately 
trace its etymology to the practice among the old Ro- 
mans, of candidates for office "going about" to solicit 
the good opinion and votes of the people. But when 
any one seeks to excel in virtuous and useful conduct ; 
when he desires to have a "good name" among his fel- 
low men ; and for the attainment of this, among higher 
and better objects, "goes about" doing good — seeking 
to promote the welfare of all around him ; — who will 
hesitate to say, that this is a laudable ambition ? The 
truth is, this feeling, like the desire of happiness, is 
10* (113) 



114 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

good or evil according to the direction which it takes, 
and the means which it employs. I indulge the hope 
that the ambition of my beloved sons will be neither 
irregular nor ignoble; but will have for its object that 
" good name which is rather to be chosen than great 
riches, and that loving favour which is more precious 
than silver or gold.'' 

Ask yourselves, then, what is that thing called eleva- 
ted character, which is most highly esteemed among 
wise men, and which is most worthy of your pursuit ? It 
is not the possession of great wealth. Some of the 
richest men that ever lived have been among the most 
vile and detestable. The great Governor of the world 
often testifies " of how little value exorbitant wealth is 
in his sight, by bestowing it upon the most unworthy of 
mortals."* Neither does the character of which I speak 
consist of great popularity among the multitude. This 
popularity has frequently been attained, and sometimes 
in a very high degree, by men who were destitute of a 
single virtue, and who ought to have been universally 
abhorred. Nor does it necessarily imply great genius, 
or intellectual powers of a very high order. These en- 
dowments fall to the lot of very few men, and even 
these are sometimes monsters of wickedness. What wise 
man would be willing to take the talents of Byron, at the 
expense of incurring his moral infamy ? On the con- 
trary, some of the most beloved and useful men that 
ever lived, did not possess extraordinary talents, but 
that happy combination of good sense, sound judgment, 
and great moral purity and activity, which fitted them 
to be a blessing to mankind. 

What, then, is that character which is most highly 
esteemed by the wise and the good ; which most cer- 
tainly and effectually commands public esteem and con- 
fidence ; and which a man of really elevated views 
would wish to enjoy? No thinking person can be for 
a moment at a loss to answer this question. It is a 

* Arbutlmot's Epitaph on Francis Chartm. 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 115 

character which exhibits the combined and noble quali- 
ties of respectable talents, sound and extensive know- 
ledge, immovable integrity and honour, persevering 
industry in every laudable pursuit, fidelity to every en- 
gagement, enlightened, steady patriotism, a spirit of 
warm, diffusive, active benevolence, and unfeigned con- 
sistent piety. Where these qualities meet and shine in 
any individual — and the more complete the assemblage 
the better — all parties will unite in ascribing to him an 
exalted character ; all will concur in saying — this is the 
" highest style of man." Even the vilest profligate in 
the community would earnestly desire, if it w r ere pos- 
sible, to possess such a character ; and if he were about 
to select a medical attendant for his family, in severe 
sickness ; a legal counsellor for himself, in a case of 
important and perplexing controversy ; an executor of 
his estate, or a guardian for his children ; he would 
say, with instinctive eagerness, " Give me a man not 
only of sound talents and knowledge, but also of high 
and unblemished moral and religious character." Even 
atheists have never failed to prefer such men for im- 
portant confidential trusts, to those of their own class. 
And why is it thus ? simply because the character which 
I have described, is best adapted to prepare those who 
possess it, to meet all the relations, to perform all the 
duties, and to enjoy all the comforts of life, and to pro- 
mote the welfare and happiness of all around them. 

The value of such a character, as a commodity in 
the market, is inestimable. The qualities, indeed, 
w T hich go to form such a character are intrinsically ex- 
cellent, and ought to be prized for their own sake. 
But their value does not end here. They elevate their 
possessor in public estimation. They inspire confi- 
dence not only, as I have said, on the part of the wise 
and the good, but of all classes of society. They put 
it in his power to take a higher professional stand ; to 
command larger emoluments for his services ; and, in 
short, to attain honours and rewards in proportion to 
their popular acceptance. 



116 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

Now, if such be the character which is most truly 
desirable ; which is most esteemed by all classes of 
men ; which is the richest source of influence and 
power ; and which is adapted to secure the greatest 
amount both of usefulness and enjoyment, — surely 
every one who is preparing to live, should keep this 
object continually in view, and seek its attainment as 
the best earthly treasure. He cannot begin too early, 
or labour too diligently, to gain that which is unspeak- 
ably more precious than all the stores of mammon that 
were ever amassed. On the one hand, whatever else 
a man may gain, if his character be not elevated, he is 
poor indeed; and, on the other hand, whatever he may 
lose, if his character be untarnished and high, he is 
still rich. Friends may die ; wealth may take to itself 
wings and fly away ; honourable office may be wrested 
from him ; but if his character remain unsullied, his 
most precious earthly possession is still left him ; he 
can still call his own all that love, respect, and true 
honour, which may enable him either to regain all 
that he has lost, or to live contented and happy 
without it. 

* This being the case, it has often excited in my mind 
great surprise, and not a little regret, to find members 
of college, not freshmen merely, but juniors, and even 
seniors, apparently taking no thought for the establish- 
ment of a high and honourable character among their 
fellow students, and the mass of their acquaintances. 
I see them indulging a temper, using language, ex- 
hibiting manners, and allowing themselves to pursue a 
system of conduct, adapted to excite the aversion and 
distrust, if not the utter enmity, of all who are connected 
with them. Surely such young men forget that, even 
if they succeed in becoming eminent scholars, it will 
only be to render themselves more conspicuously 
odious, and, of course, more unable to rise in the 
world ; and they equally forget, that if it be desirable 
and important that a good character be formed, as it 
is not the growth of a day, or of a sudden volition, 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 117 

the sooner they begin to form and to build it up the 
better. 

This character, let it ever be remembered, must in 
all cases be formed by the individual himself. I do 
not mean, of course, by this remark, to exclude that 
divine aid by which everything truly good in our 
hearts or lives is attained. Without that aid we can 
do nothing. But my meaning is, that every one's 
character depends on the spirit and conduct which he 
himself possesses and exhibits. He cannot leave to 
others the task of forming it for him, any more than 
he can leave to others the task of eating, and drinking, 
and breathing to sustain his life. His own spirit and 
acts must form his character. It is not enough that 
the parents or other relatives of a young man maintain 
a high standing. They may occupy the very highest 
position in office, honour and wealth that can possibly 
be enjoyed ; but if he have no character of his own, 
these advantages will be so far from sustaining him, 
that their influence will be rather adverse in its nature. 
His degradation will assuredly be, by contrast, more 
complete, in public estimation, on account of the other 
members of his family. I have known not a few young 
men evidently ruined, by acting on the presumption 
that the character of their parents would sustain them, 
without effort on their part, and who, under this im- 
pression, neglected the cultivation of their minds, and 
took no pains to form virtuous habits, or to establish 
a reputation of their own. Never was there a more 
deplorable mistake than this. Character is a personal 
matter. It must be strictly your own, or it can profit 
you nothing. There is a sense, and that a most im- 
portant one, in which it may be said, that all the world 
cannot sustain your reputation, if you neglect it your- 
selves. It must, under God, be constantly sustained 
by yourselves, or it will fall into ruin. 

So far as my observation has gone, the greater part 
of college students appear to have no laudable emula- 
tion at all. They are sunk in intellectual and moral 



118 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

apathy, neither aiming nor striving to excel in any- 
thing. And when a few are roused to a measure of 
zeal and effort, their desire seems to be directed to 
mere excellence in scholarship, and nothing else. If 
they can outstrip all others in study and attainments, 
their utmost wishes are answered. This is, no doubt, 
an important part of the character which ought to be 
sought by every young man ; but it is not the whole, 
nay, it is not the most essential part. Many a youth 
has gained the " first honour," who had a hateful tem- 
per, and never attained any high degree of esteem 
among men, notwithstanding his mere literary triumph. 
It is my earnest desire, my dear sons, that you may 
acquire and maintain a character for eminent scholar- 
ship ; but it would grieve me to the heart if your cha- 
racter went no further than this. My still more ardent 
desire is, that you may attain and manifest all those 
moral and religious qualities which excite esteem, which 
command confidence, which secure the love of the wise 
and the good, and which prepare for eminent useful- 
ness. This, this is the character which, in prosperity 
and adversity, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and 
in joy, in life and in death, will bear its possessor 
through, and never fail him. 

Allow me to say, further, that I desire for you that 
decision of character which is adapted to resist all 
temptation, and to overbear every unfriendly influence. 
The great unhappiness of many, and especially of many 
young men, is that, though their principles are correct, 
and their intentions good, they are apt to yield to soli- 
citation. They cannot put a decisive negative on the 
wishes and entreaties of beloved friends. This is a 
deplorable weakness, which has led to many a false 
step, and to many a shipwreck of youthful promise. It 
is one of the most precious attainments of a young 
man, not only to be established in good principles, but 
to have them so fixed, firm, and governing, as to stand 
equally unmoved against the terrors of menace, and 
the enticements of flattery ; to cultivate a firmness of 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 119 

moral purpose which dares to deny, and which is not 
ashamed, in pursuing the path of duty, to put custom, 
fashion, and the solicitation of the greatest numbers at 
defiance. This moral courage, boldness, and decision, 
impart a finish to a character in all other respects good, 
which is at once as ornamental as it is useful. 

While I call upon you to consider the importance of 
character, and to recollect that it is a treasure to be 
formed and maintained by yourselves ; I would, at the 
same time, remind you that it is a most delicate thing, 
which a single false step may irretrievably destroy. 
Young men are apt, indeed, to imagine that their con- 
duct during the period of adolescence is of small im- 
portance. They admit, and perhaps in some measure 
feel, that, by and by, when they shall have advanced 
a little further in the career of life, every step that 
they take will be practically momentous. They allow 
that reputation then will be, indeed, a tender plant, 
easily blasted, and requiring to be protected and nur- 
tured with the utmost care. But now they imagine 
that they may take considerable liberties with their 
reputation ; that juvenile mistakes, and even serious 
delinquencies, will be readily overlooked and soon for- 
gotten by an indulgent community. There never was 
a greater mistake. All my experience leads me to say, 
that the aberrations of college students from the paths 
of integrity and honour, are remembered against them 
with a degree of tenacity and permanency truly in- 
structive. I have known one false step in college, one 
dishonest or dishonourable action, one consent, in an 
evil hour, to become a partaker in a disreputable scheme 
or enterprise, to fasten itself upon a young man, to 
follow him, and to adhere to him to his dying day. I 
could easily specify examples, if it were proper, 
of gross lying, petty theft, mean deception, or 
swindling, which occurred in different colleges, at eight- 
een or nineteen years of age, which no subsequent 
conduct could ever obliterate from the popular me- 
mory ; which followed their perpetrators through a 



120 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

long public career ; and -which some coarse rival or op- 
ponent brought up to their confusion and shame in old 
age. When will the wretch, who, not long since, mur- 
dered Professor Davis, of the University of Virginia, 
be able to escape from the infamy, and if he be not a 
fiend incarnate, from the remorse, of that awful crime ? 
Even if, by the grace of God, he were to become a saint 
from this hour, how would he obtain deliverance from 
the tortures of his own mind, or from the reproaches 
of every one who identified his person, though taking 
refuge in the remotest corner of the globe to which 
his flight may bear him ? 

Let me say, then, my dear sons, if you desire to 
form and maintain an honourable character through 
life, begin now to establish it, to watch over it, to 
guard with the utmost care against everything that 
can, by possibility, affect it unfavourably. Try to es- 
tablish a reputation with all with whom you have in- 
tercourse, for a strict regard to truth, and for the 
most scrupulous adherence to integrity and honour 
in every transaction. Let nothing tempt you to 
engage, for a moment, in any scheme or enterprise 
involving duplicity, underhand dealing, or anything 
that could tempt you to shun the light. Allow your- 
selves to deceive nobody. Enter into no cabal. Put 
it into no one's power to charge you with a mean 
trick, or double dealing, in the smallest concern. Rather 
suffer anything yourselves than deceive, betray, or in- 
jure any human being. Let no false shame, no fear 
of giving offence, no desire to conciliate friends, ever 
tempt you to consent to that which your judgment con- 
demns. Dare to do what your conscience tells you is 
right — whomsoever it may disappoint or offend. Avoid 
with sacred care slander, backbiting, in short, every- 
thing inconsistent with the strictest justice, the most 
elevated magnanimity, and the purest benevolence. 
Never indulge that gossiping spirit, which leads to the 
propagation, however honestly, of evil reports, and 
which frequently involves those who indulge it in 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 121 

vexatious and not very honourable explanations and 
apologies. You are preparing, if permitted to live, for 
public usefulness. For such a life, in any profession, 
a degree of reserve, caution, and even taciturnity, is 
indispensable. Begin now that self-discipline which 
will prepare you for all the solemn and delicate respon- 
sibilities of public station. A man " full of talk" will 
often find himself embarrassed by the unbridled effu- 
sions of his own tongue. " Be swift to hear, slow to 
speak, slow to wrath." In a word, let it be your aim 
in everything, to establish such a character as shall 
compel every one who knows you, to rely on your word 
as much as upon other men's oaths ; and to say, when- 
ever there is occasion to speak of you, " Here, if any- 
where on earth, we shall find candour, truth and 
honour." 
11 



LETTER X. 

PATKIOTISM. 
" Pro Patria, Pro Patria." 

My Dear Sons- — An eastern sage was wont to say, 
" No life is pleasiDg to God, that is not useful to man." 
The spirit of Christianity still more clearly and strongly 
inculcates the same sentiment. The Saviour constantly 
" went about doing good." His daily walks, and all 
his miracles had for their object the instruction of the 
ignorant, the relief of suffering, and the promotion of 
the temporal and eternal welfare of men. 

This is the pattern for all who profess to be his dis- 
ciples. Nay more, it is not only the pattern presented 
and recommended to the Christian, but it is a plan of 
living so reasonable, so beautiful, so wise, and so attrac- 
tive in itself, that every rational creature ought to make 
it his model. It were an easy task, independently of 
revelation, to demonstrate that such a life, on the part 
of every social being, is demanded by his own true 
interest, and by the happiness of society, as well as by 
the authority of God. It is true on the real principles 
of natural religion, as well as of revealed, that no man 
can innocently live to himself. 

What ingenuous youthful student of the classics has 
not felt a generous ardour glowing in his bosom, when 
he dwelt on that oft repeated maxim of the pagan poet, 
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori ;" and when 
he read of the self-sacrifices of Curtius, and of the 
Decii, father, son and grandson, for the sake of their 
country ? Surely these feelings are not kindled by an 
ideal abstraction ! 
(122) 



PATRIOTISM. 123 

I am aware that it has been said, that we nowhere 
find patriotism enjoined as a virtue in the Christian 
Scriptures. And if by patriotism be meant, as some 
understand the term to mean, that exclusive or para- 
mount attachment to a particular nation, because we 
happen to be members of it, which permits us to dis- 
regard the rights or invade the interests of other na- 
tions; then, indeed, the word of God neither enjoins 
nor allows it. The religion of the Bible is adapted and 
intended for all nations alike. And, of course, the 
spirit of the Bible is a spirit of universal benevolence, 
which desires and aims to promote the welfare of every 
creature. 

We are not, indeed, to consider Christianity as teach- 
ing that we are to have no more regard for our own 
country than for any other. Such a view of duty 
would be unnatural, and likely to exert, in the end, a 
mischievous influence. The apostle Paul expresses, in 
Rom. ix. 3, a special attachment to "his brethren, 
his kinsmen, according to the flesh;" and the same 
inspired man still more strongly and solemnly expres- 
ses the same sentiment, when he says, 1 Tim. v. 8, 
"He that provideth not for his own, and especially for 
those of his own house, hath denied the faith, and is 
worse than an infidel." The truth is, it is always most 
natural and most easy to consult the interest and pro- 
mote the welfare of those among whom we dwell, to 
whom we can have ready access, and especially who 
are cast upon our care. It would, indeed, be superla- 
tively absurd to leave our own children to the care of 
strangers, while we took care of theirs ; or to leave 
the concerns of our own country to be looked after and 
managed by foreigners, while we undertook to legislate 
and judge for other countries. Nevertheless, though our 
own families, our own towns, and our own country, 
ought to engage far more of our attention and care 
than other families, other towns, and other countries, 
yet we are not at liberty so to care for ourselves as to 
disregard or oppose the welfare of others. But while 



124 PATRIOTISM. 

we are peculiarly careful to do good to our own, we are 
quite as carefully to avoid all invasion of the rights 
or happiness of other families or nations. 

Dr. Johnson, indeed, once said, that " patriotism is 
the last refuge of a scoundrel." By this apothegm 
that eminent man did not mean to say, that there is no 
such genuine virtue; but that,. in ninety-nine cases out 
of an hundred, its most forward and noisy claimants 
were supremely and dishonestly selfish, and really 
seeking their own aggrandizement, not their country's 
welfare. This witness is true. There can be no doubt 
that the greater number of those who claim for their 
zeal and their toil the patriot's name, are actuated by 
the meanest selfishness, and are seeking nothing but 
their own advantage. Yet, sordid and base as the 
greater portion of those who take this name are, patri- 
otism is not a mere name. It is a precious reality. 
And I wish you to possess it. 

i He is the truest patriot, then, in the Christian sense 
of the word, who loves his own country with sincere 
peculiar affection, and constantly labours to promote 
her true honour and happiness, but without injuring 
or diminishing the welfare of any other country ; who 
devotes his time, his counsels, and his best efforts, for 
bestowing intellectual, moral, and physical benefits on 
the community to which he belongs ; but at the same 
time desires and strives to bestow the same benefits, as 
far as may be, on all other communities. In short, 
Christian patriotism considers nothing as foreign from 
its care which tends to promote the happiness of man; 
and for this purpose plans and labours, first to confer 
all possible benefits on its own family and nation, and 
then on other families and nations to the remotest 
bounds of human society. In a word, the spirit of 
genuine patriotism is the spirit which prompts to do 
good in every way to every branch of the human family, 
and especially to those with whom we are more imme- 
diately connected, or who are placed most directly 
within our reach. This is the noble virtue which I 



PATRIOTISM. 125 

should be glad to see my sons cultivating, and which 
I hope will more and more shine in them as long as 
they live. 

A venerable English reformer, nearly three centu- 
ries ago, when he was drawing near the close of life, 
exclaimed with emphasis, "Pro Ecclesia Dei; Pro 
Ecclesia Dei!" It would gratify me more than I can 
express to know that similar language, whether in 
sickness or in health, in life or in death, was constantly 
uppermost on your lips. But it would also afford me 
high pleasure to know that, even now, in the walks of 
the college, your minds are animated with a noble am- 
bition to discharge with fidelity all your duties as good 
citizens, and that in looking forward to your course in 
life, you often have in your minds the spirit, and on 
your lips the language of the motto, which stands at 
the head of this letter — Pro P atria — Pro Patria ! 

Perhaps you are ready to say, that a letter on patri- 
otism is hardly appropriate in a code of counsels ad- 
dressed to lads in college ; that advice on such a topic 
would be more seasonable if intended for young men 
entering on professional life, and preparing to dis- 
charge their duties as active citizens. If such a thought 
arise in your minds, it indicates immature conceptions 
of the subject. The present is your seed-time of life, 
not only in regard to the acquisition of knowledge, but 
also in respect to the sentiments and habits of thinking 
which are to stamp your whole course. Alexander 
Hamilton, the first Secretary of the Treasury of the 
United States, came to this country, a youth of sixteen, 
a short time before the crisis of our contest with Great 
Britain, and the commencement of the revolutionary 
war. Though this was only his adopted country, yet, 
as he resolved to cast in his lot with her, he soon began 
to feel that she had claims upon him, and that his best 
powers ought to be devoted to her service. Even while 
he was in college, his patriotic zeal was awakened to 
plead her cause, and endeavour to promote her wel- 
fare. At that early period he wrote a number of 
11* 



126 PATRIOTISM. 

pieces in the journals of the day, in favour of indepen- 
dence, so judicious, so eloquent, and in every respect 
so elevated in their character, that they were, at first, 
ascribed to the pen of one of the ablest writers and 
statesmen of New York. With what ardour, ability 
and usefulness the subsequent portions of his life were 
devoted to the service of his country, in her armies, 
her deliberative bodies, and her cabinet, no one who is 
acquainted with our history is ignorant. 

This example, and many others which might be cited, 
both in this country and the land of our fathers, show 
that the sooner you begin to realize to yourselves 
that your country has a claim on you, and that you are 
bound to respond to that claim by preparing to serve 
her with your best powers, the better. Such a practi- 
cal impression, recognized and carried out into habitual 
act, is adapted to exert an influence on the whole 
character of a young man, of the happiest kind. 

It cannot fail to enlarge and elevate his mind. One 
of the greatest faults of most young men is, that their 
views are narrow and sordid. They do not lift their 
minds to high and remote objects. If their present 
appetites and wishes can be gratified ; if their present 
little tasks can be acceptably performed, it is enough. 
They look for no preparation, recognize no responsi- 
bility beyond this. But the moment the principle of 
genuine patriotism takes root, and springs up in the 
mind, it presents an object of desire, a motive to action, 
at once noble and elevating. It carries its possessor 
out of himself, and disposes him to make sacrifices to 
principle. The youth begins to see that he is bound 
to live for a great purpose. His country, in conse- 
quence of his connecting with it his own destiny, ap- 
pears more precious. He cherishes a sacred emulation 
to be a benefactor to the community and to the world. 
He desires that the world may be the better and hap- 
pier for his having lived in it. He, of course, shapes 
his plans, his studies, and his habits accordingly. He 
cultivates his powers, stores his mind with knowledge. 



PATRIOTISM. 127 

and labours to attain that species of excellence which 
will enable him most effectually to serve the public. 
In short, the mind of such a youth is cast, as it were, 
into a mould adapted to great attainments, great ser- 
vices, and great usefulness. 

Such a youth will, of course, learn to see and 
despise that noisy, heartless pretension to patriotism, 
which flows, not from the least love of country, but 
from a desire to make a living out of the country, or 
to be decorated with her honours. This, it is to be feared, 
is the real spirit of nine-tenths, if not much more, of 
all the professed patriotism which is most ardent and 
obtrusive. This spirit is indeed, what the great Eng- 
lish moralist styles it, " the last refuge of a scoundrel." 
The young patriot in college will have made no small 
acquisition, when he has learned the sordid, despicable 
character of this spirit, and acquired a real taste for 
something higher and better. 

I need scarcely add, that the student who has im- 
bibed something of the patriotic spirit, will not be found 
lending his aid, or even his countenance, to any species 
of disorder in college. He will regard perfect obedi- 
ence to the laws as an essential part of the charac- 
ter, not only of a good student, but also of a good 
citizen. He will turn away, upon principle, from all 
the practices which are unfriendly to order, to purity, 
to health, and, in general, to the best interests of society. 
He will refuse to employ his time in reading books, 
whatever may be their fascinations, which are im- 
moral, and, of course, mischievous in their tendency. 
In a word, he will abhor everything which is unfriendly 
to the happiness of the community ; and will grudge 
no toil which is adapted to put him in possession of 
any knowledge or accomplishment, by which he may be 
better qualified to become an ornament and a bene- 
factor to his country. 

I hope, my dear sons, you will no longer say or 
think, that this is a subject on which it is unsuitable 
to address a student in college. So far from this 



128 PATRIOTISM. 

being, in my estimation, the case, I am constrained to 
say, that, next to the piety of the heart, which is, more 
than anything else, the anchor of the soul, and better 
adapted to hold it fast, and to hold it comfortably on 
the troubled ocean of life — -I desire my sons to imbibe 
the spirit of patriotism ; to feel that they belong to 
their country, as well as their Grod, and that they are 
solemnly bound to cultivate every power, and to make 
every attainment, which will qualify them to be so 
many sources of light, and virtue, and happiness to 
the community. Because I know that the more deeply 
this principle shall take root in their minds, the more 
benign the influence which it will exert over the whole 
character. Such a principle will not be a mere name. 
It will sober the mind. It will impress a deep sense 
of responsibility. It will excite to diligence in study. 
It will guard a young man against giving his time to 
that frivolous or mischievous reading, which tends to 
his injury, instead of preparing him for the duties of 
practical life. In short, it will tend to impart that 
sobriety, that dignity, that industry, that desire to 
serve his generation, and that desire to live in the 
affections, and in the memory of his fellow citizens, 
which we may hope will be the means of preparing 
him to be the man, and to make the attainments, which 
are the objects of his noble ambition. 



LETTER XI. 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 



Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant, 

Omnia nos itidem depascimur aurea dicta. — Lucretius. 



My Dear Sons — When some one asked Agesilaus, 
the king of Sparta, what it was in which youth ought 
principally to be instructed, he very wisely replied, 
" That which they will have most need to practise when 
they are men." I said that this was a wise reply ; and 
so it undoubtedly was, if we could assume that every one 
knows in youth what he may have most occasion for 
when he becomes a man. But I contend that no man 
knows what the providence of God has in reserve for him 
in after life ; and, of course, no one can tell, in all cases, 
what branch of knowledge, among those which he is 
called to study, may be of most importance to him 
hereafter, either as a means of subsistence, or as an 
avenue to honour and usefulness. If, therefore, a stu- 
dent of college were to ask me, " Which of my pre- 
scribed studies shall I attend to with diligence?" I 
^would certainly reply — " to all ; neglect none of 
them — be not content to be superficial in any of them. 
It maybe that, in after life, you may find those branches 
of knowledge, which you are now tempted to undervalue, 
of more vital importance to you than all the rest put 
together. To meet an exigency of this kind, try to be 
thorough in every study ; and then you may be prepared 
for any situation in which the providence of God may 
place you. 

I shall never forget a remarkable example, which at 

(129) 



130 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

once illustrates and confirms this advice. I was inti- 
mately acquainted, in early life, with one of the most 
accomplished scholars our country ever bred. I refer 
to the Rev. Dr. John Ewing, of Philadelphia, for 
many years Provost — another name for President — of 
the University of Pennsylvania. He was a graduate 
of the College of New Jersey, which then had its loca- 
tion in Newark, but now in Princeton. He belonged 
to the class which was graduated in 1755, and, after 
reading what I am about to state, you will not wonder 
that he was greatly distinguished in his class. He re- 
marked, one day, in my hearing, that in the earlier 
stages of his college life, he was often tempted to slight 
what he then deemed some of the less essential branches 
of his prescribed course. He sometimes, he said, asked 
himself, " Of what use can some of these studies pos- 
sibly be to me in after life ?" Partly by his own bet- 
ter reflections, however, and partly by the advice of 
the venerable President Burr, then at the head of the 
institution, he was induced neither to neglect nor slight 
any study, under the impression that he might have 
occasion for them all in his subsequent course. This 
suggestion, which he contemplated as a possibility, was 
amply realized. After the lapse of a few years, he 
was himself placed at the head of an important college, 
and found abundant use for all his acquirements. He 
was probably more thoroughly accomplished in all the 
branches of knowledge usually studied in the best col- 
leges, -than any other native American of his day ; and 
probably few of his contemporaries in any country ex- 
ceeded him. This qualified him not only to maintain 
an enlightened superintendence over the whole institu- 
tion committed to his care, but also enabled him in the 
occasional absence of any professor, whatever his 
branch of instruction might be, to take his place, at a 
moment's warning, and perform his duties quite as well 
as the professor himself. This he was often known 
to do, to the admiration of circles of waiting pupils, 
who saw no other difference between him and their 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 131 

regular professor in that branch, than a manifest supe- 
riority of taste, accuracy, and profundity on the part 
of their accomplished president. 

Nor is this by any means the only example which 
experience has furnished of the vital importance to 
individuals of diligence and faithfulness in pursuing 
every branch of their collegiate course. On the one 
hand, I have known a number of graduates of colleges, 
who, though in affluent circumstances at the time of 
their graduation, were unexpectedly reduced to poverty, 
who found the genuine and ripe scholarship which they 
had been wise enough to acquire in college, a source of 
ample and honourable support as long as they lived. 
On the other hand, I have know many examples of 
young men who, with the best opportunities, were lazy 
enough, or inconsiderate enough, to make all their stu- 
dies slight and superficial, and who afterwards found, 
to their mortification and loss, that they had not schol- 
arship sufficient to qualify them for any of the situa- 
tions to which they might otherwise have aspired, and 
which would have secured them both comfort and 
honour. 

I entreat you, then, my dear sons, not to cheat 
yourselves in regard to this matter. For, truly, every 
young man may be said to cheat himself, more than 
he cheats his teachers or his guardians, when he slights 
or neglects the study of any important branch of 
knowledge which belongs to a liberal education. By 
so doing, he diminishes his own treasures, and lessens 
his own power, both of doing good, and of obtaining 
pre-eminence in life. The more you can store your 
minds, with every species of useful knowledge, the 
better prepared you will be to "serve your generation 
by the will of God," and to attain that true honour 
among men, which the union of knowledge and virtue 
never fails to secure. 

But, notwithstanding this general principle, which 
ought to govern every student, it cannot be doubted 
that there are some branches of knowledge more radi- 



132 PAKTICULAR STUDIES. 

cal in their value and influence than others, and which, 
therefore, ought to be cultivated with peculiar zeal and 
diligence. If, therefore, you ask me, which of all the 
studies prescribed in your collegiate course, you ought 
to regard with especial favour, and to cultivate with 
special preference and labour, I would, without the 
least hesitation, say they are the ancient languages 
and Mathematics. Study to be at home in all the 
branches prescribed for your course ; but in these 
make a point of being strong, mature, and rich. If 
you should be compelled, by feeble health, or by any 
other consideration, to pass more hastily than you 
could wish over any particular studies, let neither of 
these two be of the number. They are fundamental 
in all intellectual culture, and, when in any good de- 
gree mastered, diffuse an influence over all the other 
departments of knowledge which every good scholar 
will perceive, and which none but a good scholar can 
appreciate. 

You are aware that some of the friends of liberal 
knowledge in general, have laboured hard to depress 
the claims of classical literature, as an indispensable 
part even of a collegial course of study. But the longer 
I reflect on the subject, the deeper is my conviction 
that all such efforts are the result either of ignorance, 
or of that deplorable infatuation which is sometimes 
found to enslave the minds of men, whose knowledge 
ought to have made them wiser. I am ready, indeed, 
to grant that the study of the Greek and Latin lan- 
guages ought not to be enjoined on every youth who 
seeks to gain, in any degree, a literary and scientific 
education. If a young man should contemplate being 
a merchant, or an artist, or extensive planter, or a 
mechanic, I should by no means urge him to devote 
much of his time to the study of classic literature. 
Yet if even such an one had leisure for it, and could 
afford the expense, he might be better qualified to adorn 
and to enjoy the pursuit to which he devoted himself, 
by the richest classical acquirements. Not only might 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. - 133 

he derive from that species of knowledge a rational 
and very elevated enjoyment, by the gratification of 
taste, but he might be able to conduct his employment, 
whatever it was, upon a more liberal scale, upon more 
improved principles, and with a taste and intelligence 
wholly unattainable without it. I would certainly say, 
then, to every young man who could command the 
means for the purpose, " Whatever may be your con- 
templated pursuit in life, make a point of gaining as 
much classic literature as you can. It will be an orna- 
ment and a gratification to you as long as you live. It 
will enlarge your views, discipline your mind, augment 
your moral and intellectual power, and prepare you for 
more extensive and elevated usefulness." 

Such would be my address to every young man who 
had the opportunity of making the attainment in ques- 
tion. But with respect to what is denominated a " libe- 
ral education," such an education as is commonly 
understood to be given in colleges, all intelligent men, 
all except a few intellectual fanatics, contend for clas- 
sical literature as an indispensable part of the course. 
May it ever continue to be so ! When colleges cease 
to make the study of Greek and Latin a necessary and 
a prominent part of their plan of instruction, I hope 
they will abandon their charters, and no longer perpe- 
trate the mockery of conferring degrees. 

It is no longer, then, an open question, whether you 
shall devote some measure of your attention to the 
study of the Greek and Latin languages. You must 
be in some degree acquainted with this branch of know- 
ledge, if you would gain the honours of the College 
of New Jersey. But I wish you, my dear sons, to go 
much further than this. It is my earnest desire and 
injunction, that you make the ancient languages an 
object of special attention ; that in whatever else you 
are deficient, you make it a point to be strong and 
thorough-going here. My reasons for this injunction 
are the following : 

A knowledge of the laws of language, and of the 
12 



134 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

right use of speech, may be said to be a radical mat- 
ter, both in gaining and imparting all other kinds of 
knowledge. He who would express, on any subject, 
exactly what he means, and be able to know exactly 
what others mean, must have an exact acquaintance 
with the principles and powers of language. The study 
of the laws of written and vocal speech, therefore, 
must lie at the foundation of all intellectual teaching 
and attainment. This will be disputed by no one who 
is qualified to judge in the case. 

Now it is impossible for any one to understand the 
essential principles of grammar, without being ac- 
quainted with more languages than one. All scholars 
are unanimous in maintaining this position. But if 
we must learn more languages than one, in order to 
comprehend the general laws which govern human 
speech, it is surely desirable to become acquainted with 
the most perfect languages with which the world has 
ever been favoured. In regard to those languages 
which have the highest claim to this character, there 
is great unanimity of opinion among learned men. 
All agree that among the languages within our reach 
the Greek and Latin are the most perfect instruments, 
for the expression of human thought, that the world 
has ever known. They are more precise and copious 
in their idioms ; more rich and expressive in their voca- 
bulary ; more happy in their collocation ; and more 
delicately clear, transparent and comprehensive in their 
whole structure than any other languages with which 
we are acquainted. " It is the appropriate praise of 
the best writers in those languages, that they present 
us with examples of the most exquisite beauty of thought 
and expression, united with inimitable simplicity ; that 
they scarcely ever present us with one idle or excres- 
cent phrase or word ; that they convey their meaning 
with a brevity, a directness, a clearness, and a force, 
which have never been exceeded. Their lines dwell 
upon our memory. Their sentences have the force of 
oracular maxims. Every part is vigorous, and very 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 135 

seldom can anything be changed but for the worse. 
We wander in a scene where everything is luxuriant, 
yet everything vivid, graceful and correct.'' Surely, 
then, those who wish to become acquainted with the 
power of language as an instrument of thought ; with 
the most delicate and discriminating shades of mean- 
ing which it is capable of expressing ; with those happy 
turns of expression by which every thought may be 
conveyed in the most clear, direct and forcible manner, 
can engage in no study better adapted to refine, en- 
rich, and enlarge the mind, .than that of those noble 
dialects, which served for so many ages as instruments 
of instruction and eloquence to the great master minds 
of the ancient world. Surely he who undervalues and 
neglects these languages, is chargeable with undervalu- 
ing and neglecting some of the noblest objects and 
means of knowledge that can well engage the atten- 
tion of the student of literature or science. 

It is also worthy of serious consideration that Greek 
is the original language of part of the Holy Scrip- 
tures ; and that a deep acquaintance with classical 
Greek is a most important accomplishment in one who 
undertakes to be a skilful interpreter of the inspired 
volume. This consideration will not fail to be appre- 
ciated by every enlightened scholar, and especially by 
all who have in view the sacred office. 

Another important consideration here is often not 
duly regarded. In the Greek and Latin languages 
there are hidden from the vulgar eye treasures of know- 
ledge, which are richly worthy of being explored, but 
which can never be fully laid open, excepting to those 
w T ho understand those languages. Ancient Greece and 
Rome furnish us with the finest models of history, of 
poetry, and of various objects of science and taste, 
which the world has ever possessed. To be ignorant 
of these models, and of all the facts and principles of 
which they form the dress and the vehicle, is indeed to 
deprive ourselves of an amount of knowledge of w T hich 
it is difficult adequately to estimate the value. Let 



136 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

none say, that the noblest monuments of Grecian and 
Roman genius may be fully made known to us by trans- 
lation. No competent judge of the matter ever ima- 
gined that this was possible. No ancient classic was 
ever so translated as to give an adequate idea of the 
original. The facts which they state may, indeed, be 
exhibited in a modern tongue ; but their native exqui- 
site beauties can never be expressed in such a manner 
as to be fully comprehended in another language. 
They must ever continue to be a hidden treasure to all, 
but those who can hold communion with the language 
of the original writer. Aside, however, from the ne- 
cessary imperfection of all translations from the Greek 
and Latin tongues, let it be remembered, that large 
Stores of knowledge, embodied in those languages, have 
never been translated at all into English ; and, of 
course, are entirely beyond the reach of the mere 
English reader. 

Besides, let it not be forgotten, that some of the 
ablest productions of the seventeenth century, that 
age of genius and of profound erudition, were written 
in the Latin language. The most valuable treatises of 
Bacon, Newton, and other master spirits of that age, 
first appeared in Latin. But is it not humiliating to 
one, claiming to be a scholar, to be unable to commune 
with those eminent authors in their original dress ? 

But more than this ; we cannot really understand 
our own vernacular tongue without a knowledge of 
Greek and Latin. No one can take the slightest sur- 
vey of the English language, or of any of the modern 
languages of Europe, without observing how largely 
all of them are made up of derivatives from Greek and 
Latin. We can scarcely utter a sentence, especially 
in any of the higher walks of discourse, without using 
many terms, the exact meaning of which cannot be 
adequately understood without a knowledge of the 
tongues from w T hich they are derived. We may, in- 
deed, without this knowledge, have some general idea 
of the meaning of the terms thus employed, but of 4 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 137 

their precise meaning and force we cannot be adequate 
judges without knowing something of their etymology. 
And hence, though we sometimes find those who never 
learned Greek or Latin, who speak and write their own 
language with force, and sometimes even with elo- 
quence ; yet, even in such speakers and writers, the 
real scholar may generally discern the absence of that 
precision, appropriateness and felicity of expression 
which can only be attained by familiarity with the 
ancient classics. 

Nor is even this all. When we turn to the technical 
language of any one art or science in popular use — the 
language, for example, of Chemistry, of Zoology, of 
Botany, of Mineralogy, of Geology, &c, we shall find 
it almost all borrowed from the Greek or Latin ; and, 
of course, the students of these sciences, though they 
may, with great labour, learn the meaning of these 
terms by rote ; yet how much better to begin the study 
w T ith such a knowledge of the ancient classics as will 
save the toil of committing to memory the import of 
terms which, to the ear of the scholar, would proclaim 
their meaning as soon as pronounced. It is evident, 
therefore, that he who addresses himself to the study 
of any of the branches of knowledge of which I speak, 
having previously acquired a competent knowledge of 
Greek and Latin, will find his labour more than half 
abridged, and will proceed with more ease, with more 
intelligence, and with more accuracy at every step. 

If, then, you desire to obtain a clear knowledge and 
thorough mastery of language as an instrument of 
thought ; if you desire to be really at home in your 
own language ; if you wish to form a pure, precise, 
lucid, happy style; if you would furnish yourselves 
with a happy instrumentality for entering and advan- 
tageously pursuing every other branch of knowledge ; 
if you would become master, either in speaking or 
writing, of a rich, copious, exact, discriminating vocab- 
ulary ; if you would gain that knowledge of antiquity 
which will serve an invaluable purpose whatever your 
12* 



138 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

pursuits may be, and which in some professions is in- 
dispensable ; if you would adopt one of the most effec- 
tual means for the discipline of the mind; if you desire 
to be able to read the best English classics with the 
highest degree of taste, pleasure, and profit ; and if 
you would be furnished with some of the very finest 
means of ornament and illustration in all the higher 
walks of discourse — make a point of being, as far as 
possible, profound and accurate classical scholars. 
Rich attainments in this department of knowledge will 
shed a lustre and a glory over every other. They will 
render the study of every other more easy, more 
pleasant, and more valuable. They will enlarge your 
minds, and your power of applying them both usefully 
and ornamentally, to an extent not easily measured. 
And if, in the providence of God, you should fail of 
success in any particular profession, a thorough know- 
ledge of the classics will open a door to emolument and 
honour, in whatever part of the world, or in whatever 
circumstances you may be thrown. Were I called 
upon to mention that accomplishment which, united 
with a fair moral and religious character, would most 
certainly secure to its possessor an ample and respec- 
table support, I should undoubtedly say, it is that of a 
sound and accurate classical scholar. 

Let me enjoin it upon you, then, in every part of 
your college course to pay special and unremitting 
attention to the Greek and Latin classics. Study 
some portion of them every day, whether your pre- 
scribed task requires it or not. Never pass over a 
sentence without analysing it thoroughly, and going 
to the bottom both of its terms and its connected im- 
port. Never let a week pass without engaging in both 
Greek and Latin composition. Familiarize yourselves 
to double translations, i. e. from these languages, and 
into them again. I hardly know a more rigorous and 
improving intellectual discipline than that of faithful 
and accurate translations from the ancient classics, and 
then, laying the book aside, attempting to restore the 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 139 

original. Be in the habit of committing to memory 
passages of remarkable significance and beauty in 
those languages ; and think it not too much to form a 
little club of half a dozen fellow students for the pur- 
pose of speaking Latin, whenever you come together. 
If I had my collegia! life to live over again, I would 
certainly make a point of forming such an association, 
and of being one of its members. Its members should 
spend an hour together at least once a week ; and one 
of its strictest rules should be not to utter a single word 
in conversation, when together, in any other language 
than Greek or Latin. This is a hint, rely upon it, 
worthy of regard. I have repeatedly been placed in 
circumstances in which I had no means of conversing 
with learned foreigners but in Latin. To be able to 
speak it with some degree of readiness, is not only a 
great convenience, but an elegant accomplishment. 

But while, among the regular studies of the college, 
I unhesitatingly assign the first place in importance to 
classic literature, I must, with equal decision, assign 
the second place to mathematics, as one of those radi- 
cal, governing studies which diffuse over the whole 
mind, and all its acquirements, a salutary influence. 

It is a common thing for young men to dislike 
mathematics, and to consider a taste for this depart- 
ment of knowledge, as the mark of a plodding and 
dull mind. They conceive of its principles as insuffera- 
bly dry, and of its results as in a great measure use- 
less. Hence they are often known to despise it, and 
to boast of their having no taste for it. But can it be 
that the science of numbers and quantity ; the science 
which treats so essentially of the relations and pro- 
portions of things ; the science which investigates and 
establishes truth by the closest possible reasoning, nay, 
by the most rigid demonstration, can be a study of 
small value, or of doubtful benefit ? Can it be that 
such a science, either in respect to its intrinsic charac- 
ter, or its influence on the minds of those who study 
it, can be of little use ? None but the grossly igno- 



140 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

rant can entertain such an opinion. The fact is, as 
the study of language lies at the foundation of all ac- 
curate acquirement, and all successful communication 
of knowledge; so the essential principles of mathema- 
tics, in the widest sense of that term, may be said to 
enter more deeply into all the processes of analysis 
and demonstrative reasoning, than can be stated in a 
short compass. The influence of this branch of study 
on the intellectual powers, is connected with the most 
salutary discipline. It prepares and accustoms the 
mind to examine the relations of things ; to deduce 
and weigh evidence ; to pursue close and rigid reason- 
ing ; and to guard against the errors of false deduc- 
tion. Though you may never have much occasion in 
your future lives to make any direct use of the algebra 
or the geometry which you may acquire in college ; 
though you may never be called upon to survey a piece 
of land, to conduct a ship on the ocean, to calculate a 
parallax, or an eclipse, or to estimate the height of a 
mountain, or the distance of a planet ; though you 
may sometimes imagine, when you are required to re- 
peat the demonstrations of Euclid, and to enter into 
the niceties of Integral and Differential Calculus, that 
they will never be of any use to you in time to come ; — 
yet, be assured, there never was a greater mistake. 
No young man can pursue studies better adapted to en- 
large and discipline his mind ; to subject it to legiti- 
mate rule; to form the best reasoning habits; to pre- 
pare him for analysing the most abstruse subjects, 
and for tracing and collecting the most complicated 
and diverging rays of evidence. In short, if I were 
perfectly sure that my sons would never have occasion 
while they lived, to make any immediate practical use 
of a single mathematical study to which they devoted 
their time, I would still say, by all means study these 
subjects with persevering diligence and ardour. They 
will benefit your minds, and facilitate the acquisition 
of other branches of knowledge in a thousand ways, 
of which you can now very imperfectly conceive. 



PARTICULAR STUDIES* 141 

The mineralogist, the geologist, the chemist, and the 
professor of the healing art, often need to call mathe- 
matical science to their aid, as well as the surveyor, 
the navigator, and the practical astronomer. The ad- 
vocate at the bar, in a multitude of cases, cannot do 
even tolerable justice, either to his cause, or his client, 
without an acquaintance with the principles of mathe- 
matics. And scarcely any department of natural phi- 
losophy can be advantageously studied, and some of 
them not at all, without the aid of this noble science. 
Accordingly, the author of "Lacon, or many things 
in few words," remarks, "He that gives a portion of 
his time and talent to the investigation of mathemati- 
cal truth, will come to all other questions with a deci- 
ded advantage over his opponents. He will be in ar- 
gument what the ancient Romans were in the field. 
To them the day of battle was a day of comparative 
recreation ; because they were ever accustomed to ex- 
ercise with arms much heavier than those with which 
they fought ; and their reviews differed from a real 
battle in two respects ; they encountered more fatigue, 
but the victory was bloodless. n 

The young man, then, who in the course of his edu- 
cation neglects or undervalues mathematics, betrays an 
ignorance and a narrowness of views of the most igno- 
ble kind. He congratulates himself, perhaps, on a 
conquest over his teachers, and on a happy escape from 
the demands of an unwelcome task. But he cheats 
and injures himself a thousand fold more than his 
teachers. He incurs a loss and a disadvantage which he 
can never repair. He foregoes a mental discipline, and 
a species of mental furniture, for the want of which 
nothing can adequately compensate. Rely upon it, 
the more radical and complete your mathematical attain- 
ments, the better fitted you will be for whatever profes- 
sion you may choose ; the greater will be your power to 
adorn, and to turn to the best account any profession ; 
the more ample will be your capacity to serve either 
the church or the world in your generation. 



142 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

I return, then, to the maxim with which I began. 
Aim, as far as possible, to stand at the head of your 
fellow students in every study. Neglect none : slight 
none. It is impossible to decide concerning any one 
of them, that it will not be of essential use to you in 
after life. But if you are emulous to excel in any par- 
ticular branches, let them by all means be those which 
I have specified. You may be incredulous now of the 
entire truth of what has been advanced ; but by and by 
you will see and acknowledge it all. Let me warn you 
against postponing to admit and realize this until it be 
too late. For if you fail of making the acquirements 
in question before the close of your course in college, 
you will, in all probability, never make them at all. 

In enumerating the particular studies which ought 
to engage the special regard of every young man who 
wishes to make the most of himself, I would mention, 
with peculiar emphasis, the art of composition in his 
own language. I know of no accomplishment more 
adapted to increase the power of an educated man. 
Many an individual who has been cut off by disease 
from the active duties of a public profession, has been 
enabled to serve his country and the Church of God 
more extensively and effectually by his pen, than he 
could have otherwise done in the enjoyment of his best 
vigour ; and many others, who were active and illus- 
trious in their professional character, have rendered 
themselves still more illustrious and more permanently 
useful, by their force and eloquence as writers. Would 
any wise man grudge the intellectual labour which 
should enable him to write the English language as it 
has been written by the author of Junius ; by Edmund 
Burke ; by Robert Hall ; by Thomas Chalmers ; by 
Thomas Babington Macaulay, of Great Britain ; to say 
nothing of a few eminent men in our own country ? 
True, in the writings of these men there is great diver- 
sity, and each has beauties and faults peculiar to him- 
self ; but in all there is a wonderful power well worthy 
of emulation. 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 143 

I have spoken of the labour of learning to write in 
the masterly manner attained by the eminent men just 
mentioned, and by others of the last and present cen- 
tury, whose names deserve a place in the same honoura- 
ble list. And truly, I know of no art in which unwearied, 
persevering labour is more indispensable to the attain- 
ment of high excellence, than that of which I am 
speaking. It has long been an accredited proverb — 
JPoeta nascitur, non fit. But there is hardly an accom- 
plishment to which the principle of this proverb is less 
applicable than the art of composition. There is no 
doubt that some acquire it much more easily and 
readily than others ; but in all it requires a degree xrf 
study and of practice to which very few are willing to 
submit. It requires such a careful perusal of the best 
writers, such a laborious comparison of different styles, 
such a persevering study of the principles of language, 
and such an indefatigable repetition of efforts, as no 
toil can discourage. No one ever wrote well, who did 
not write much. I care not how great his talents, if 
he imagines that this kind of excellence will come, so 
to speak, "in -the natural way," and disdains the em- 
ployment of unwearied labour to attain it, he will pretty 
certainly fail of success. 

The instruction of experience on this subject is am- 
ple, and very decisive. To illustrate my position, I 
might adduce many signal examples. The late Charles 
James Fox, of Great Britain, as a parliamentary deba- 
ter, was, perhaps, never exceeded. It is probable that 
no man ever rose in the English House of Commons 
who displayed so much eloquence of the true Demos- 
thenian stamp as that celebrated statesman. As a 
public speaker, he was simple, clear, inexhaustibly rich, 
profound, and transcendently forcible. But when he 
took pen in hand, he fell far below himself. All his 
published works (except his speeches, which were taken 
from his lips by stenographers) manifest a second or 
third rate writer. Of the same thing there was quite 
as signal, though not so celebrated, an example in one 



144 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

of the Southern States, nearly seventy years ago. A 
gentleman who had consummate powers as a public 
speaker, who greatly exceeded all his fellow members 
of the legislative body to which he belonged in bold, 
fervid and overpowering eloquence, was at the same 
time, with his pen, powerless. He could scarcely write 
a common letter without manifesting an awkwardness, 
a feebleness, and a want of acquaintance with the most 
obvious rules of grammar, truly discreditable. 

Let me entreat you, then, from the very commence- 
ment of your course in college, to be liberal and con- 
stant in the use of the pen. Let no day pass without writ- 
ing something. Summon to your aid in this matter all 
sorts of composition. Write letters, speeches, abstracts 
of striking, eloquent volumes, which admit of the pro- 
cess ; peruse, and re-peruse the best models; and spare 
no pains to acquire the happy art of embodying and 
presenting your thoughts in that clear, simple, direct, 
lively and powerful manner which will indicate that 
you are familiar with the precepts of the elegant 
Horace, and with the example of the great Grecian 
orator. 



LETTER XIII. 



GENERAL READING. 



" Nihil legebat quod non excerperet." — Plin. Epist. 
" Ex animi relaxatione divitias contrahere." — Anon. 

My Dear Sons — I take for granted that your read- 
ing will not be confined to your class-books. If you 
possess any measure of that love of knowledge, and of 
that activity and enlargement of mind which every 
member of a college must be expected, as a matter of 
course, to desire and aim at, you will endeavour to 
carry along with you, through all your college exercises, 
some portion of what is called general reading ; — that 
is, a kind and an amount of reading which may con- 
tribute toward rendering you, not a mere academical 
student, but a liberal and general scholar. 

I also hope that you will see the importance of sub- 
jecting this course of general reading to some digested 
plan, to a sound and discreet system of rules. Surely 
one who wishes to make the most of the powers that 
God has given him, and to reach the highest attain- 
ments in knowledge, reputation and usefulness, ought 
not to surrender himself in this matter, or in anything 
else, to the government of caprice, or of temporary 
and spasmodic feeling. Nothing is likely to be well 
done which is not conducted on a plan. I hope, there- 
fore, my dear sons, you will listen to some counsels 
which I have to give you on this subject. They may 
not in all respects accord with your taste or your wishes; 
but they are the result of some experience, and they 
13 (145) 



146 GENERAL READINGS 

are offered with the sincerest desire to promote your 
highest honour and happiness. 

I take for granted, indeed, that the studies pre- 
scribed by your instructors will be attended to first 
of all, and will never be neglected. These have the 
first claim on your time and attention, and cannot, 
without serious delinquency, be postponed to any inci- 
dental or capricious pursuit. We are accustomed to 
adopt as a maxim, that a man ought to be just before 
he is generous. So, in the case before us — he who 
suffers himself to be drawn away to excursive and mis- 
cellaneous objects of attention, while the studies of his 
class are neglected, may give himself credit for liber- 
ality and enlargement of mind ; but he is guilty of a 
fraud on himself, as well as on his instructors, and will 
find in the end, that here, as well as everywhere else, 
" honesty is the best policy." But I hope your atten- 
tion to the studies of your class will be so prompt, so 
zealous, and so seasonably completed, as to allow you 
some portion of time every day for the reading of 
which I speak. 

Let your general reading, then, be such as is 
adapted to be useful. Think of the great ends of 
education. They are to form proper intellectual and 
moral habits, and to fill the mind with solid, laudable 
knowledge. And as life is so short, and the field of 
knowledge so very extensive, we cannot, of course, 
know everything ; we cannot find time to read all the 
books which are worthy of being read. Of the many 
within our reach we must make a selection ; and that 
this selection ought to be made with discrimination 
and judgment, needs no formal proof. The studies 
prescribed by authority for your classes will occupy, 
I trust, with indefatigable diligence, the greater part 
of your time. Need I employ argument to convince 
you that the reading destined to occupy the interstitial 
spaces of your time not filled with prescribed studies, 
should be of a kind adapted to unbend, and, at the 
same time, to enlighten, to enlarge and invigorate the 



GENERAL READING. 147 

mind, and to add to the amount of its valuable furni- 
ture ? 

And here, I trust, it is unnecessary to put you on 
your guard against all that reading which is adapted 
to corrupt the principles and the heart. Were I to 
hear that, under the guise of enlarged and liberal 
reading, you were, in your leisure moments, poring 
over the pages of Voltaire, Helvetius, and other simi- 
lar writers, I should consider you as under an awful 
delusion, and be ready to weep over you, as probably 
lost to virtue and happiness, to say nothing of piety. 
The writers to whom I have referred were vile men, 
who devoted their learning and talents to the worst 
purposes ; who lived in misery, and died in despair 
themselves ; and whose lives and works were adapted 
to corrupt and destroy all who held intercourse with 
them. Say not, that he who is forming his opinions, 
ought to be willing to examine such writers, and see 
what they have to say for themselves. I should just 
as soon regard with patience him who should tell me, 
that I ought to examine and re-examine whether theft, 
lying, adultery, and murder were really wrong, and 
whether it was not a mere prejudice to regard them 
as crimes. No, my sons, be assured such writers can 
do you nothing but harm. Their impiety and com- 
plicated corruption may make you despise your species, 
doubt of everything, hate your duty, and turn away 
from all the sober principles of action and of enjoy- 
ment ; but, believe me, they will never make you wiser 
or happier men. Their speculations may be compared 
to the operation of poison received into the animal 
system, which, as long as it is lodged there, can never 
fail to excite morbid action, but which can seldom or 
never be wholly expelled. Whatever may be the 
effect of your reading such books, the result cannot 
but be unhappy. If you adopt the errors which they 
contain, they will be your destruction for time and 
eternity ; for they will destroy all sober principle, and 
all fitness to be useful in life. And even if your moral 



148 GENERAL READING. 

constitution should be enabled to resist and overcome 
the poison, it will leave many an ache and pain, and 
lay the foundation of many a morbid feeling as long 
as you live. 

You ought, then, to be as choice of your books, for 
what is called general reading, as the prudent man, 
who is in delicate health, feels bound to be in the selec- 
tion of his articles of aliment. There is a wide range of 
reading, comprehending what may properly be called 
English classics, with which every educated man is ex- 
pected to have some acquaintance. None of the works 
belonging to this catalogue are class-books, in the tech- 
nical sense of that phrase. Of course they are not in- 
cluded in your prescribed studies ; and unless you gain 
some knowledge of them by extra reading, you must 
leave college without being acquainted with them. This 
would be at once a disreputable deficiency, and a seri- 
ous impediment in the way of your making the most 
of your college course. Surely before you leave col- 
lege you ought to be able to w T rite in your own language 
with elegance and force ; but how are you to acquire 
this power without a familiar acquaintance with some 
of the best writers of that language ? 

To the list of authors of whom I thus speak, belong 
Bacon, Shakspeare and Milton, of the seventeenth 
century, and Addison, Steele, Pope, Thomson, Young, 
Goldsmith, Johnson, Cowper, Beattie, and a number 
of others, of the eighteenth ; to which may be added 
Clarendon, Robertson, Hume, and several more who 
have figured as votaries of the historic muse. In this 
Catalogue I have forborne to insert the names of some 
writers greatly distinguished as theologians, because, 
however worthy of universal study, popular feeling 
does not generally require that they should be the 
objects of youthful study. But there are two works, 
even of this class, which I cannot help singling out as 
indispensable objects of attention on the part of all 
cultivated thinkers. I refer to Butler's Analogy, and 
Edwards's treatise on the Will. What would be thought 



GENERAL READING. 149 

of an educated young man, who had no acquaintance 
with any of the eminent w T riters just named, but by 
hearsay ? True, indeed, a few of these writers are not 
wholly unexceptionable in regard to the moral charac- 
ter of some of their pages ; but their intellectual and 
literary eminence is transcendent ; and when read with 
discrimination and caution, the youthful aspirant to 
knowledge and eloquence may derive from them the 
richest advantages. The truth is, without an acquaint- 
ance with the mass of these writers, you cannot appre- 
ciate the riches, the beauties, or the purity of your 
vernacular tongue, or hope successfully to train your- 
selves to a good style of writing. In these writers, 
too, you will find a great store-house of fine sentiment, 
as well as of happy diction, adapted greatly to enlarge 
and elevate the mind, to impart to it the highest pol- 
ish, and to prepare it for its best efforts. No matter 
what the profession may be to which you intend to de- 
vote your lives. In any and every walk of life you 
will find a familiarity with these English classics of in- 
estimable value. No man ever heard Alexander Ham- 
ilton, or Daniel Webster plead at the bar, without 
perceiving the potency of the weapons which they con- 
tinually derived from their acquaintance with this class 
of writings. Who ever listened to the speeches of John 
Quincy Adams, or Henry Clay, or any of their noble 
compeers, in the Senate-house, without recognizing how 
largely this department of reading added to the riches, 
the fascination, and the power of their eloquence ? It 
might be supposed, at first view, that the masters o$ 
the healing art could derive but little aid, either in 
practising or teaching their favourite science, from an 
intimate acquaintance with the best English classics. 
But the slightest acquaintance with the most distin- 
guished medical writers and teachers of Great Britain, 
will show the egregious error of this estimate. And 
who ever attended the lectures, or perused the writings 
of Dr. Rush, of our own country, not to mention others 
still living, without perceiving what grace and power 
13* 



150 GENERAL READING. 

this kind of knowledge imparted to all the products of 
his lips and his pen ? With respect to the pulpit, I 
will not insult your understandings by attempting to 
show that the large and general reading of which I 
speak, is of inestimable value in its bearing on the 
matter, as well as the manner of the instructions given 
from week to week, by those who occupy the sacred 
desk. In short, he who expects to be able to address 
his fellow men, in any situation, or on any subject, in 
an attractive and deeply impressive manner, without 
the diligent study of the principles and powers of the 
language in which he speaks or writes, cherishes a vain 
expectation. And he who imagines that these princi- 
ples and powers are to be learned, without the careful 
study of those writers who have furnished the best ex- 
amples of both, might as well hope to " gather grapes 
of thorns, or figs of thistles. " 

If you are wise, then, you will devote all those hours 
which you can spare from your prescribed studies to 
books which you can turn to rich account in disciplining 
and enlarging your minds, and in filling them with 
solid furniture. Something, indeed, in making your 
selection, is to be referred to personal taste ; for that 
reading which is not pursued con amove, as well as 
with close attention, will profit you little ; but still 
judgment ought to be permitted to step in and regu- 
late the taste. He who refuses to do this, and con- 
sults his inclination, for the time being alone, will, no 
doubt, live and die a very small and probably useless 
man. 

In prescribing a plan for general reading for stu- 
dents in college, there is one question which I presume 
you will not fail to ask, and which I wish to anticipate 
and answer in this little system of counsels. The 
question is, whether novels ought to have any place in 
the list of books assigned for the "general reading" 
of students. This is a question of exceedingly great 
importance. When I was myself a student in a col- 
lege, more than half a century ago, it was far less in- 



GENERAL READING. 151 

teresting and momentous as a practical matter than it 
has now become. At that time the number of this 
class of writings was so small, and their popular cir- 
culation, comparatively, so inconsiderable, that their 
influence was scarcely worthy of notice compared with 
that which they now exert, and which they are every 
day extending. What amount of prevalence and of 
influence they are to reach at last, is one of those pain- 
ful portents on which I dare not allow my mind to 
dwell. In the meantime, with all the solicitude of a 
father's heart, I will offer you some counsels which, 
" whether you will hear or whether you will forbear," 
appear to me worthy of your most serious regard. 

That the form of fictitious history to which the name 
of novel* is given, is not necessarily and in its own 
nature criminal, will probably be acknowledged by all. 
Nay, that it may, when constructed on proper princi- 
ples, and executed in a proper manner, be made pro- 
ductive of solid utility, is too plain to be doubted. It 
was on this principle that the infinitely wise Author of 
our holy religion frequently adopted the form of para- 
ble for communicating the most important truths to his 
hearers. And on the same principle, some of the wisest 
human teachers have used the vehicle of lively and 

* Many do not seem to make the proper distinction between 
the terms Romance and Novel. Yet there is a distinction be- 
tween them which ought to be kept up. Romance seems pro- 
perly applicable only to a narrative of extraordinary adventures, 
not merely fictitious, but wild, extravagant, improbable, far 
removed from common life, if not bordering on the supernatu- 
ral ; while the word Novel, more strictly, and by exact speak- 
ers and writers, is intended to express that species of fictitious 
writing which professes to instruct or entertain by describing 
common life and real characters. The earliest fictitious narra- 
tives were chiefly of the former kind. They abounded in stories 
of giants, dragons, enchanted castles, fairies, ghosts, and all the 
heroic absurdities of knight-errantry. The aim of those who 
have figured most in the more recent class of fictitious narra- 
tive called novels, has been to describe the natural and probable 
exhibitions of real life, and of modern manners, and to instruct 
by the ordinary scenes of social and domestic intercourse. 



152 GENEBAL HEADING. 

interesting fiction, known to be such at the time, for 
insinuating into the mind moral and religious lessons, 
which, in a different form, might not so readily have 
gained admittance. It is obvious, then, that to this 
kind of writing, as such, there can be no solid objec- 
tion. Novels might be so written as to promote the 
cause of knowledge, virtue, and piety ; to lead the mind 
insensibly from what is sordid and mean, to more worthy 
pursuits, and to inspire it with elevated and worthy 
sentiments. Nay, it may be conceded that out of the 
myriads of novels with which the literary world has 
been deluged, a few are, in fact, in some degree enti- 
tled to this character, and adapted to produce these 
effects. 

But the great unhappiness of modern times in regard 
to this subject is two-fold ; first, in multiplying works 
of this kind until they bear an inordinate and injurious 
proportion in the current literature of the day ; and, 
secondly, in constructing many of them upon a plan 
adapted to degrade virtue and piety, and even to re- 
commend vice, and, of course, to prove seductive and 
immoral in their whole influence. 

Even when such works are perfectly unexceptionable 
in their moral character; when they are wholly free 
from anything corrupt, either in language or sentiment, 
they may be productive of incalculable mischief, if, as 
now, they are issued in excessive numbers and quan- 
tity. Leaving the character of modern novels entirely 
out of the question, the enormous number of them, 
w T hich for the last half century has been every day 
increasing, has become a grievous intellectual and moral 
nuisance. As long as they were few in number, and 
were regarded, not as the substance, but only as the 
seasoning of the literary feast, they occupied but a 
small portion of public attention. The chief time and 
attention of the reading portion of the community were 
mainly devoted to works of substantial value, fitted to 
strengthen, enlarge, and enrich the mind. But within 
the last thirty or forty years, the number of works of 



GENERAL READING. 153 

this class has multiplied so rapidly ; they have become 
so prominent and alluring a part of the current litera- 
ture of the day; and by their stimulating and inex- 
haustible variety, have so drawn away the minds of the 
aged as well as the young from solid works, that they 
have come to form the principal reading of a. large 
portion of the community, and, of course, have become 
a snare and an injury to an extent not easily calculated. 
As long as exhilarating gases, or other stimulating sub- 
stances, are administered sparingly, and as medicines, 
they may be altogether harmless, and even essentially 
useful. But when those who have taken them for some 
time in this manner become so enamoured with them 
as to be no longer satisfied with their moderate and 
salutary use, but make them their daily and principal 
aliment, they become inevitably mischievous. They 
destroy the tone of the stomach, and, in the end, radi- 
cally undermine the health. 

So it is with the insidious excitement of novels. 
Were a young man to take none of them into his 
hands, but those which might be safely pronounced 
pure and innocent ; and were he certain that he would 
never be tempted to go beyond the most moderate 
bounds in seeking and perusing even such, there would, 
perhaps, be little danger to be apprehended. But no 
one can be thus certain of either. The general stimu- 
lus of fictitious narrative, as actually administered, is 
morbid and . mischievous. It excites the mind, but 
cannot fill or nourish it. The probability is, that he 
who allows himself to enter this course, will be led on, 
like the miserable tippler, from one stage of indulgence 
to another, until his appetite is perverted ; his power 
of self-denial and self-government lost ; and his ruin 
finally sealed ; or, at least, his mind so completely in- 
disposed and unfitted for the sober realities of practical 
wisdom, for the pursuits of solid science and literature, 
as to be consigned to the class of superficial drivellers 
as long as he lives. 

The truth is, novels— even the purest and best of 



154 GENERAL READING. 

them — with very few exceptions, are adapted, not to 
instruct, but only to amuse ; not to enrich or strengthen 
the mind, but only to exhilarate it. They bear very 
much the same relation to genuine mental aliment, that 
the alcoholic dram does to solid food. They ever ener- 
vate the mind. They generate a sickliness of fancy, 
and render the ordinary affairs and duties of life alto- 
gether uninteresting and insipid. After wading through 
hundreds of the most decent and popular volumes be- 
longing to this class — what has been gained ? After 
consuming so many months of precious time — time 
which can never be recalled — in this reading, what 
has been acquired ? what has been laid up for future 
use ? Nothing — absolutely nothing ! Not a trace of 
anything really useful has been left behind. The days 
and nights devoted to their perusal have been lost — 
totally lost. What infatuation is it for a rational 
creature, who is sent into the world for serious and 
important purposes, and who is hastening to a solemn 
account, thus to waste precious time ; and, what is 
worse, thus to pervert his mind, and, in a greater or 
less degree, to disqualify himself for sober employ- 
ments ! The celebrated Dr. Goldsmith, in writing to 
his brother, respecting the education of his son, ex- 
presses himself in the following strong terms, which 
are the more remarkable as he himself had written 
one of the most popular novels : — " Above all things, 
never let your son touch a romance or novel. These 
paint beauty in colours more charming than nature, 
and describe happiness that man never tastes. How 
delusive, how destructive are those pictures of consum- 
mate bliss ! They teach the youthful mind to sigh 
after beauty and happiness which never existed ; to 
despise the little good which fortune has mixed in our 
cup, by expecting more than she ever gave ; and, in 
general, take the word of a man who has seen the 
world, and has studied human nature more by experience 
than precepts — take my word for it, I say, that such 
books teach us very little of the world." He might 



GENERAL READING. 155 

have gone further and said, they teach us little of any- 
thing worth knowing, and so pervert the taste as to 
take away all relish for applying the mind to anything 
sober or useful. Often have I known young men so 
bewitched by novels that they could read nothing else. 
They sought for new works of this class in every direc- 
tion ; devoured them with insatiable avidity ; lost all 
relish for their regular prescribed studies ; neglected 
those studies more and more ; and at length closed 
their college course miserable scholars, and utterly un- 
qualified for any sober pursuit. 

But there is another source of evil in this depart- 
ment of literature, still more serious and formidable. 
A very large proportion of modern novels are far from 
being innocent. They are positively seductive and 
corrupting in their tendency. They make virtue to 
appear contemptible, and vice attractive, honourable, 
and triumphant. Folly and crime have palliative and 
even commendatory names bestowed upon them. The 
omnipotence of love over all obligations and all duties, 
is continually maintained, and the extravagance of 
sinful passion represented as the effect of amiable sen- 
sibility. That some ladies, and even titled ladies, have 
appeared in the lists of authorship of such works, is 
one of the mournful indications of the taste of the 
present day, and no unequivocal testimony of the 
danger of this class of writings. And though works 
of this character may be, at first, contemplated with 
abhorrence, no one can tell how soon the mind may be 
gradually and insidiously reconciled to them, by fami- 
liarity with their pestiferous and infectious sentiments. 

There, is, indeed, a portion of modern novels, which 
millions of the young and the old have read with eager 
delight, and pronounced not only innocent but useful ; 
adapted to enlarge our knowledge of human nature, 
and to inspire generous and benevolent sentiments. 
These are the numerous works of this class by Sir 
Walter Scott, and the later and less celebrated, but 
highly popular works of Mr. Dickens, of South Britain. 



156 GENERAL READING. 

With regard to the former, I am constrained to say, 
that my estimate is less favourable than that of many 
who admire and praise them. Of the great talents of 
Sir Walter Scott, as evinced in these and other writ- 
ings, no competent judge can entertain a doubt ; and 
that his novels abound in elevated sentiments, in 
graphic delineation, and in powerful diction, from 
which the aspirant to high literary and moral excellence 
may learn much, is equally evident. But those who 
read intelligently such of his works as profess to take 
a retrospect of Scottish history, interwoven with fic- 
tion, if capable of making a proper estimate of the 
times and characters which he undertakes to portray, 
will perceive that the writer arrays himself against the 
patriotism and the piety of some of the best men that 
ever adorned the history of his country ; that he ex- 
hibits orthodoxy and zeal under the guise of enthusiasm 
and fanaticism ; that he strives to cover with dishonour 
" men of whom the world was not worthy," and to 
elevate and canonize their persecutors ; in short, that 
the general influence of his works is wholly unfriendly 
to religion. These characteristics pervade some of the 
most popular of his novels. Ought I, can I, consist- 
ently with the most sacred obligations, advise that 
such books be put into the hands of inexperienced and 
unsuspecting youth, unaware of danger, and at an age, 
and in circumstances, most likely to receive serious 
injury? 

The later and highly popular novels of Mr. Dickens, 
are not liable to the most serious of these objections. 
They abound in just, and sometimes in striking senti- 
ments, strongly and happily expressed ; and they lay 
open pictures of real life, chiefly of the most sordid, 
vulgar and vile character, well adapted to impart to 
youthful readers a knowledge of the world, and espe- 
cially of the selfish, fraudulent, and degraded world. 
This is the most favourable side of the portrait. The 
most serious objections are, that they render the youth- 
ful mind familiar with the ingenuity and the arts of 



GENERAL READING. 157 

low and vulgar crime ; that they introduce their 
readers, as it were, behind the scenes in the drama of 
systematic and revolting wickedness ; and while they 
tend, more than most writings of this class, to absorb 
the mind, and give it a distaste for solid knowledge, 
they impart nothing which can be considered as an 
equivalent for that which is lost. 

Estimating novels, then, not as they might be made, 
but as they are in fact, it may be asserted that there 
is no species of reading which, habitually and promis- 
cuously pursued, has a more direct tendency to dissi- 
pate and weaken the intellectual powers ; to discourage 
the acquisition of valuable knowledge ; to fill the mind 
with vain, unnatural, and delusive ideas ; and to de- 
prave the moral taste. It would, perhaps, be difficult 
to assign any single cause which has contributed so 
much to produce that lightness and frivolity which so 
remarkably characterize the literary taste of the nine- 
teenth century, as the unexampled multiplication, and 
the astonishing popularity of this class of writings. 

I have, therefore, no hesitation, my dear sons, in 
saying, that, if it were practicable, I would wholly 
exclude novels from your general reading ; not be- 
cause there are none which may be perused with some 
profit ; but because the hope that, out of the polluted 
and pestiferous mass continually presented to the 
youthful mind, a tolerably wise choice will generally, 
or even in many instances, be made, can scarcely be 
thought a reasonable hope. If I could hope to succeed, 
then, in such counsel, I would say, throw away all your 
novels. If you wish to form a sober, practical, robust 
intellectual character, throw them all away ; banish 
them from your study. They will never help you in 
reaching either usefulness or solid fame. 

As, however, these fictitious productions are strewed 
around us in such profusion, and will more or less ex- 
cite the curiosity of youth, the plan of total exclusion 
is seldom practicable. In these circumstances it is, 
perhaps, the wisest course to endeavour to restrain and 
14 



158 GENERAL READING. 

regulate the curiosity which cannot be wholly repressed, 
and to exercise the utmost vigilance in making a proper 
choice for its gratification, and in restricting this gra- 
tification within the smallest possible bounds. For it 
may, with confidence, be pronounced, that no one was 
ever an extensive, and especially an habitual reader 
of novels, even supposing them all to be well selected, 
without suffering both intellectual and moral injury, 
and, of course, incurring a diminution of happiness. 

But the trash which is everywhere spread around 
the youth of our land, under the name of novels, is 
not the only form of light reading that is adapted to 
dissipate the mind, to degrade the taste, and to work 
intellectual and moral injury in all who yield to the 
prevalent mania. The time that is devoted by the 
young men in our literary institutions to the perusal 
of literary and political journals, of magazines, and 
the multiplied forms of light periodicals, which every- 
where solicit their attention, forms so serious an evil, 
that every student who values his time, and desires to 
attain the solid improvement of his talents, ought 
to be aware of it, and from the outset of his course, 
to be on his guard against it. The fact is, the number of 
ephemeral periodicals has become so enormously great, 
and they every day so importunately solicit the atten- 
tion of those who have any taste for reading, that they 
leave little time for studying anything better. Nor is this 
all. They distract the attention of the student ; seduce 
him from sources of more profound, systematic, and 
useful information ; and are fitted to form pedants and 
index hunters, rather than men of real erudition. On 
this account, the reading of literary young men, within 
the last forty or fifty years, has become far less solid 
than formerly. Many of the best works of the seven- 
teenth and eighteenth centuries have been crowded out 
of view by compends, compilations, and a thousand 
ephemeral productions ; not merely because the taste 
for better works has been in a great measure lost, by 
superficial habits; but because the number of these 



GENERAL READING. 159 

ephemeral and catchpenny trifles is so great as abso- 
lutely to leave little time, and, in many cases, no time 
for anything better. 

There is no doubt that the seventeenth century was 
the age of genius. The eighteenth, it is acknowledged, 
exceeded it in taste ; but in original powerful thinkers, 
the seventeenth appears to me to stand unrivaled. 
He who will look over the list of the eminent men who, 
during that century, adorned Great Britain and the 
continent of Europe, will be, I cannot doubt, of the 
opinion, that no such catalogue can be found in any 
other age of the last eighteen hundred years. To say 
nothing of the illustrious divines who distinguished 
that period, who can recollect the names of Bacon, 
Shakspeare, Newton, Selden, Boyle, Hale, Locke, 
Milton, Coke, Des Cartes, Grotius, Leibnitz, Galileo, 
the Bernoulis, and many more, without feeling that 
they were among the mightiest minds that the world 
ever saw ? These men were the great original thinkers 
of modern times ; and certainly those who allow them- 
selves to be ignorant of their works, forego one of the 
richest means of enlightening and invigorating the 
mind within their reach. How unwise, then, are those 
youth, who, while they profess to be students, profess 
to be seeking the best improvement of their talents, 
the best preparation to shine in the highest walks of 
life, really adopt a course adapted to make them superfi- 
cial triflers, instead of men of solid, profound, and 
powerful accomplishments ! Rely upon it, if you wish 
to take rank with any of the eminent men whose names 
have been mentioned as adorning the seventeenth 
century, or even with many who have appeared in our 
own country within the last fifty years, you must 
devote yourselves as they did, to solid, systematic, and 
unwearied study, and not waste your time with the 
periodicals and compends which may, from time to 
time, engage the popular attention. 

After writing the above, I was not a little gratified 
to find my opinion confirmed by so competent an autho- 



160 GENERAL READING. 

rity as that of Judge Story, of Massachusetts, whose 
taste, scholarship, and sound judgment impart pecu- 
liar weight to his decisions on such a subject, espe- 
cially when it is recollected that none who know 
him will ascribe to him that tendency to puritanical 
rigour, that may be thought by some to be allied to such 
counsels as have been expressed. 

In a late discourse, addressed to the Alumni of his 
Alma Mater, in which he treats of " the dangers, the 
difficulties, and the duties of scholars in our own age, 
and especially in our own country," that eminent scholar 
and jurist delivers the following opinions, which I hope 
you will seriously consider : 

" Who that looks around him does not perceive, what 
a vast amount of the intellectual power and energy of our 
own country is expended, not to say exhausted, upon 
temporary and fugitive topics, — upon occasional ad- 
dresses — -upon light and fantastic compositions — upon 
manuals of education, and hand-books of instruction, — 
upon annotations and excerpts, — and upon the busy 
evanescent discussions of politics, which fret their hour 
upon the stage, or infest the halls of legislation ? Need 
we be told that honours thus acquired melt away at the 
very moment when we grasp them ; that some new 
wonder will soon usurp their place ; and, in its turn, 
will be chased away or dissolved by the next bubble or 
flying meteor ? I know that it has sometimes been 
said, that ' nothing popular can be frivolous ; and that 
what influences multitudes must be of proportionate 
importance.' A more dangerous fallacy, lurking under 
the garb of philosophy, could scarcely be stated. There 
would be far more general truth in the statement of the 
very reverse proposition. Our lecture-rooms and Lyce- 
ums are crowded, day after day, and night after night, 
with those who seek instruction without labour, and 
demand improvement without effort. We have abun- 
dance of zeal, and abundance of curiosity enlisted in 
the cause, with little aim at solid results, or practical 
ends. It seems no longer necessary, in the view of 



GENERAL READING. 161 

many persons, for students to consume their midnight 
lamps in pale and patient researches, — or in communing 
with the master spirits of other days, — or in interro- 
gating the history of the past,* — or in working out, with 
a hesitating progress, the problem of human life. An 
attendance upon a few courses of lectures upon science, 
or art, or literature, amidst brilliant gas-lights, or bril- 
liant experiments, or brilliant discourses of accomplished 
rhetoricians, is deemed a satisfactory substitute for hard 
personal study, in all the general pursuits of life. Nay, 
the capital stock thus acquired may be again retailed 
out to less refined audiences, and give ready fame and 
profit to the second-hand adventurer. 

" It is an old saying, that there is no royal road to 
learning ; and it is just as true now as it was two thou- 
sand years ago. Knowledge, deep, thorough, accu- 
rate, must be sought, and can be found only by 
strenuous labour, not for months, but for years ; not 
for years, but for a whole life. What lies on the sur- 
face is easily seen, and easily measured. What lies 
below is slowly reached, and must be cautiously ex- 
amined. The best ore may often require to be sifted 
and purified. The diamond slowly receives its polish 
under the hands of the workman, and then only gives 
out its sparkling lights. The very marble whose massy 
block is destined to immortalize some great name, re- 
luctantly yields to the chisel ; and years must elapse 
before it becomes (as it were) instinct with life, and 
stands forth the breathing image of the original. 

" It cannot admit of the slightest doubt (at least in 
my judgment) that the habit of desultory and miscel- 
laneous reading, thus created, has a necessary tendency 
to enervate the mind, and to destroy all masculine 
thinking. Works of a solid cast, which require close 
attention and exact knowledge to grapple with them, 
are thrown aside, as dull and monotonous. We apolo- 
gize to ourselves for our neglect of them, that they 
may be taken up at a more convenient season ; or we 
flatter ourselves that we have sufficiently mastered their 
14* 



162 GENERAL READING. 

contents and merits from the last Review, although, 
in many cases, it may admit of a doubt, whether the 
critic himself has ever read the work. Without stop- 
ping to inquire, how many of the whole class of literary 
readers now study with thoughtful diligence, the stand- 
ard writers in our own language, and are not content 
with abridgments, or manuals, or extracts, I would 
put it to those who are engaged in the learned profes- 
sions, and have the most stringent motives for deep, 
thorough, and exact knowledge — I would put it to them 
to say, how many of their whole number devote them- 
selves to the study of the great masters of their pro- 
fession ; how many of them can, in the sober lan- 
guage of truth, say, We are at home in the pages of our 
profoundest authors; we not only possess them to en- 
rich our libraries, but we devote ourselves to the daily 
consultation of them. They are beside us at our fire- 
sides, and they cheer our evening studies. We live 
and breathe in the midst of their laborious researches, 
and systematical learning."* 

Such are the sentiments of this eminent man. I 
know that, in your sober judgment, you cannot but 
approve them. If so, let it be seen that you begin 
now, even within the college walls, to waste as little 
time as possible on the ephemeral trifles of the day, 
and to employ as much as possible on those rich works 
of classical character and value, every one of which 
will add something to your permanent stores of intel- 
lectual wealth. 

But if you wish to profit much by this counsel, you 
must have a plan about it. Resolve, then, that you 
will be a sparing reader of periodicals of every kind. 
Seldom allow yourselves to employ many minutes over 
a newspaper, unless it be to peruse a great speech, or 
some other document of more than common interest. 
A large part of the reading furnished by our newspa- 

* A Discourse delivered before the Society of the Alumni of 
Harvard University. By Joseph Story, LL. D. 



GENERAL READING. 163 

pers is of a highly demoralizing character ; and the 
greater portion of those which belong to the penny 
class, are most polluting in their tendency. Turn from 
magazines and novels as you would from a suspicious, 
not to say, an infected region ; touching none of them, 
or, if any, none but a few of the best, and devoting as 
little time as possible even to them. Keep constantly 
at your elbow, in a course of reading, some English 
classic, adapted at once to cultivate your taste and add 
to your stock of knowledge ; and to be taken up when 
your prescribed labour is terminated. How much bet- 
ter to have a system of this sort, than to pass the 
hours of relaxation from the studies of your class, 
either in perfect idleness and ennui, or in reading the 
most worthless, not to say the vilest trash, that is so 
often engaging the attention of students who profess to 
aim at the attainment of liberal knowledge ! If the 
plan I have recommended, or anything like it, were 
faithfully pursued, every student of college, before the 
close of his regular course, would be familiar with the 
best masters of sentiment, of diction, and of knowledge 
that the English language affords. 

But I hope you will not confine your general reading 
to the English language. That student in college is 
greatly wanting to himself, w T ho, in the present ex- 
tended, and greatly extending intercourse among 
nations, does not labour, as far as possible, to become 
acquainted with several modern languages, and espe- 
cially w T ith the French and German. The subserviency 
of these languages to professional eminence and suc- 
cess is obvious. I have repeatedly known lawyers and 
physicians who resided in populous places, submit, late 
in life, to the labour of acquiring both those languages, 
because they perceived that the possession of them 
would serve as an introduction to a large portion of 
lucrative business. How much better would it have 
been for such persons to have acquired a knowledge 
of these languages in college ; at an age when a new 
language is more easily gained than in more advanced 



164 GENE&AL READING. 

life, and when the range of its utility would have been 
far greater ! I rejoice to know that you have not been 
inattentive to the languages specified, and that you 
are in some measure prepared to avail yourselves of 
the benefits to which they may be made subservient. 

Let a part of your general reading be in those lan- 
guages ; as well for the enlargement of your know- 
ledge, as for the increase of your familiarity with dif- 
ferent dialects. In French, read such works as Fene- 
lon's Telemaque ; the sermons of Massillon, Bossuet, 
Bourdaloue, and Saurin ; Voltaire's Siecle de Louis 
XIV. et XV., and Histoire de Charles XII. , and his 
La Henriade, (avoiding the great mass of the other 
works of that profligate infidel ;) together with the 
works of Chateaubriand, Lamartine, De Tocqueville, 
Guizot, and Ballanche, of the present day, and espe- 
cially Professor Merle d'Aubigne's Histoire de la Re- 
formation, a most instructive and graphic work, and to 
read which in the original, it would be well worth while 
to acquire the French language. 

With regard to German reading, my knowledge is 
too scanty to enable me to speak in a very adequate or 
discriminating manner. But I may, without hesita- 
tion, recommend that the hours bestowed upon it may 
be given to the writings of such men as Klopstock, 
Gellert, Wieland, Herder, Goethe, Schiller, and a few 
more, whose character you will readily learn from Ger- 
man scholars. It is to be lamented that the writings 
of most of these men ought to be read with caution, 
as by no means wholly faultless in their tendency. 
Still, in a literary point of view, they may be consid- 
ered as holding a high place in the country to which 
they belong, and as among the best that can be recom- 
mended to those who wish for a small amount of select 
German reading. 

It will readily be perceived, from all that has been 
said, that the thing popularly called general reading, 
is a matter of no small importance ; that it affords a 
noble opportunity for enriching the mind with valuable 



GENERAL READING. 165 

knowledge ; that the variety in this field, which solicits 
the attention of the scholar, is immense ; and, of course, 
that he who wastes the precious hours, which he can 
afford to devote to this employment, in the perusal of 
works frivolous, corrupt, or, to say the least, wholly 
unprofitable, is equally foolish and criminal. The truth 
is, a wise youth may render his general reading as es- 
sentially subservient to his ultimate success in life, as 
the most solid prescribed study in which he can engage. 



LETTER XIII. 

ATTENTION.— DILIGENCE. 

"MsXafq 'to 7to.v." — Periander. 
'' Nil sine magno 



Vita labore cledit mortalibus." — Hor, 



My Dear Sons — When man fell from God, a part 
of the sentence pronounced upon him, in the way of 
penalty, was — " In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt 
eat thy bread." It was indeed a penalty; and, of 
course, all the labour and toil connected with success 
in life, ought to remind us of our fallen nature, and 
humble us under the mighty hand of God. But the 
penalty in this, and in many other cases, has been con- 
verted by the wisdom and goodness of God into a bless- 
ing. The great law of our being, that we shall eat our 
bread in the sweat of our brow, extends much further 
than is commonly imagined. Many understand it as 
applying only to the common labourer. But it applies 
to all. All who would enjoy life — all who would have 
bread to eat in plenty and comfort, must labour for it 
either in body or mind. And is it not a mercy that 
the providence of God has so ordered it ? What would 
be the consequence if all could eat and drink, and en- 
joy the luxuries of life to their heart's content, with- 
out labour ? Would it not dissolve the bonds of society, 
and convert the world into a real hell ? The law of 
labour, in one form or another impressed upon all men, 
tends to promote their health, both of body and mind ; 
(166) 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 167 

to excite, invigorate and expand their faculties ; to pre- 
serve them from the rust of inaction, and the snares 
of idleness ; to discipline and elevate both the intel- 
lectual and moral character, and to make man a helper 
and a blessing to man. 

You ought to regard it, then, not as a misfortune, 
but as a blessing, that much knowledge is not to be 
gained, nor a high reputation established, without much 
labour. Of course I cannot sympathize with those who 
lament this arrangement of Providence. Rather ought 
w T e all to rejoice in it, as one of the multiplied eviden- 
ces of that adorable wisdom and benignity, which 
brings light out of darkness, order out of confusion, 
and results the most blessed and happy out of circum- 
stances painful to our natural feelings. 

I take for granted that my sons, after going so far 
in the attainment of what is called a liberal education, 
expect to get their living without mechanical labour. 
But if they hope to accomplish anything worthy of 
pursuit, either in the acquisition of knowledge, or in 
the formation of good intellectual and moral habits, 
and serving their generation acceptably and usefully, 
without much labour and toil, they were never more 
deluded. If one old heathen could say, in the language 
of the mottoes, which stand at the head of this letter, 
" In this life nothing is given to mortals, without great 
labour;" and another, u Industry and care effect every- 
thing ;" much more strongly and clearly is the same 
lesson taught by the word of God, and by uniform ex- 
perience. Think not that what is called genius, or 
even the highest order of talents, even if you could 
persuade yourselves that you possessed them, would 
exempt you from the law of patient labour. The 
greatest men that ever adorned and benefited human 
nature, have found it otherwise. The fact is, any sin- 
gle branch, either of literature or science, if we would 
thoroughly master it, is deep enough and wide enough, 
to keep indefatigably busy the most vigorous and ac- 
tive mind for a long lifetime. How much more the 



168 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

multiplied branches, which he, who aspires to shine in 
any one of the learned professions, is compelled to ex- 
plore ! There is, no doubt, great diversity in regard 
to the ease and readiness with which some minds ac- 
quire knowledge compared with others. But in no 
case whatever can a large amount of knowledge, on any 
subject, be gained without much patient labour. And 
it is simply the want of a disposition to submit to this 
labour which makes so many miserable scholars, and 
which stands in the way of that success in life which 
might have been otherwise easily and certainly com- 
manded. 

A defect here, my dear sons, lies more frequently 
and more deeply at the foundation of those failures to 
get forward in life, which are so frequently seen and 
lamented, than is commonly imagined. One of the 
most sagacious and successful managers of secular 
business that I ever knew, who was, for many years, a 
faithful and efficient trustee of our college, and to 
whom she owes a large debt of gratitude for his wise 
and useful services as one of her guardians,* when any 
one was spoken of in his presence as failing of success 
in his temporal affairs, and when the want of success 
was accounted for by calling him unfortunate, was 
heard more than once to say — " Unfortunate ! don't 
tell me ; when I hear of such an event I set it down to 
the score of the want of industry, or of discretion, or 
both. No industrious, prudent man need be in want 
or in difficulty in this country." This, in general, I 
believe to be a true verdict. With very few exceptions, 
(and exceptions there doubtless are,) I am inclined to 
believe that the opinion of that enlightened judge may 
be confidently maintained. It will be found true in 
ninety-nine cases out of an hundred. 

If this remark applies with justice to the ordinary 
details of commercial or mechanical business, it is no 
less applicable to mental efforts and attainments. 

* The late Eobert Lenox, Esquire, of New York. 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 169 

Here you might just as well expect any absurdity, any 
impossibility to occ^r, as the gaining of any large 
amount of digested, valuable knowledge without much 
and indefatigable mental labour. When I have heard, 
therefore, as I sometimes have, of students (if they 
deserve the name of students) who dreamed that they 
were men of geniu^ and who imagined that genius, 
without industry, wc>uld accomplish everything— nay, 
who felt ashamed of appearing studious, and who en- 
deavoured to conceal the little mental application to 
which they did subnet, by conducting it in a stealthy 
manner ; — when I have heard of such young men, I 
have hardly knowi 1 which to admire most — their 
childish ignorance of the nature of true knowledge, or 
their miserable -charlatanry in aping a character to 
which they had no just claim. 

If you wish to b e rea l scholars, and to make any 
solid attainments in any of the branches of knowledge 
to which your attention is directed, calculate on con- 
stant indefatigable labour. Abhor the thought of 
skimming over the surface of anything. Whatever 
labour it may cost, go to the bottom, as far as you pos- 
sibly can, of every subject. Give yourselves no rest 
until you comprehend the fundamental principles, the 
rationale of everything- I n eed not say to any one 
who thinks, that it is only when a subject is thus stu- 
died that our attainments deserve the name of know- 
ledge. Then only c?an it be said to have a firm lodg- 
ment in the mind, £nd to be ready for practical use 
when subsequently reeded. On the one hand, never 
give way to the foolish notion, that you can never ad- 
vantageously study $> particular branch without a spe- 
cial genius for it. Many an infatuated youth, for ex- 
ample, has tried to excuse himself for not mastering or 
loving his mathematical studies, by pleading that he 
has no genius for th^t branch of science. Never allow 
yourselves to offer or to entertain such a plea. A 
young man of any r^ind ought to be ashamed of such 
a thought. It is, in forty-nine cases out of fifty, the 
15 



1T0 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

offspring of either mental imbecility, or shameful lazi- 
ness. What though Dean Swift was disgraced in the 
University of Dublin by his ignorance of mathematics? 
Does any one doubt that, if morbid caprice and indo- 
lence had not stood in the way, he might have been an 
eminent mathematical scholar ? And is not every re- 
flecting reader of his life persuaded that, if he had 
been such a scholar, he would have been a far greater, 
and, perhaps, a more practically happy man ? No one 
who has the spirit of a man ought to consider any de- 
partment of knowledge as beyond his reach. Let him 
be willing to labour in the attainment of it and he 
will overcome. Let him constrain himself, however 
reluctantly, to engage in the study ; and, in a little 
while, that which in the outset was a toil will become 
a real pleasure. 

On the other hand, imagine not that any department 
of knowledge can be successfully explored and gained 
without long-continued and patient labour. If, indeed, 
you wish for a mere smattering, which will enable you 
to appear decently at a recitation, and plausibly to 
repeat a lesson by rote, without understanding what 
you say ; then, truly, you may get along without much 
labour. But what is implied in filling the mind with 
real digested knowledge ? Facts must be stored up ; 
principles must be investigated and mastered ; rela- 
tions, proximate and remote, must be explored ; and 
all applied to the numberless and ever varying cases 
which the works of nature and of art present. Now, 
can any thinking mind imagine, that this is to be done 
without much mental labour; without continued, sys- 
tematic, unwearied toil from day to day ? Dr. John- 
son never uttered a juster sentiment than when he 
said — " Every one who proposes to grow eminent by 
learning, should carry in his mind, at once, the diffi- 
culty of excellence, and the force of industry ; and re- 
member that fame is not conferred, but as the recom- 
pense of labour ; and that labour, vigorously continued, 
has not often failed of its reward."* 

* Rambler, No. 25. 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 171 

There is, I apprehend, no defect more common 
among students than impatience of protracted labour 
in the acquisition of knowledge. Many seem to ima- 
gine that large and profound views of the most difficult 
subjects are to be gained by one or a few mighty 
efforts ; by an occasional spasmodic exertion, if I may 
so express it. Be assured, whatever may be the case 
with a rare genius, now and then, it is commonly not 
so. The old French proverb, " Pas a pas on va Men 
loin" i. e. " Step by step one goes very far," affords 
the real clew to the proper course. A mountain is 
not to be passed by a single leap ; nor a deep and rich 
mine to be explored by a single stroke, or even a few 
strokes, of the spade. But a sufficient number of slow, 
cautious, patient efforts will accomplish the enterprise. 
So it is in study. Impatient haste is the bane of in- 
tellectual work. A little thoroughly done, every day, 
will make no contemptible figure at the end of the 
year. We are told of Sir Isaac Newton, that, when 
questioned respecting the peculiar powers of his own 
mind, he said, that if he had any talent which distin- 
guished him from the common mass of thinking men, 
it was the power of slowly and patiently examining a 
subject; holding it up before his mind from day to 
day, until he could look at it in all its relations, and 
see something of the principles by which it was gov- 
erned. His estimate was probably a correct one. His 
most remarkable, and certainly his most valuable, 
talent consisted, not in daring, towering flights of 
imagination, or in strong creative powers, but in 
slow, plodding investigation ; in looking at a series of 
facts, from day to day, until he began to trace their 
connection ; to spell out their consequences ; and ulti- 
mately to form a system as firm as it was beautiful. 
The little structures, which haste and parsimony of 
labour have erected from time to time, have stood their 
passing day, and soon crumbled into ruins. But the 
mighty pyramids, built up by long, patient, and un- 



172 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

wearied labour, have continued firm, in all their un- 
shaken grandeur, amidst the waste of ages. 

When you contemplate the splendid success of some 
eminent individuals, now or lately on the stage of pub- 
lic life, you are ready to imagine that similar success 
is beyond your reach, and that to aim at it would be 
presumptuous. This is a great mistake, and to indulge 
it is very unwise. It must be admitted, indeed, that the 
success of all cannot be alike. AH, for example, cannot 
be great orators ; excellence in this art depends so 
much on physical accomplishments ; on the voice, the 
eye, the nervous temperament, &c, that we can by no 
means assure every one that a high degree of it is 
within his reach. Yet even here great excellence may 
often be attained by those whose qualifications appear, 
at first view, wholly unpromising. The history of 
Demosthenes is a most striking exemplification of the 
truth of this remark. Hundreds who are now poor 
speakers, if they had the industry and the resolution 
that the illustrious Grecian had — if they would take 
the unwearied pains that he did to expand and invigor- 
ate the chest, to strengthen and discipline the voice, 
and to fill their minds with appropriate sentiments and 
happy diction, such as he attained, might well emulate 
even his eloquence. It is, undoubtedly, mere indo- 
lence, or ill directed effort, which stands in the way 
of high attainment, in this rarest of all human accom- 
plishments. 

But the avenues to real greatness are almost infinitely 
diversified; and if one be shut, another is open to 
almost every one. I think, my dear sons, that my 
estimate of your talents is not extravagant. I am 
willing, for argument's sake, to place it as low as any 
one can ask ; and I will still say, that great things are 
within your reach. Nay, I will venture confidently to 
affirm, that every one who has had mind enough and 
knowledge enough to reach any class in college, has it 
in his power, humanly speaking, to attain high distinc- 
tion as a beloved, honoured, and eminently useful man. 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 173 

Some of the greatest benefactors of society that ever 
lived were not men of genius ; but they were sober and 
industrious, willing to labour in laying up knowledge ; 
and they did thus lay it up, and having attained it, 
they had the honesty and the benevolence to employ 
it all in endeavouring to promote the welfare and 
happiness of their fellow men. Who can say that this 
is beyond his reach ? Look round on your classmates, 
and ask, which of them is too low on the score of talent 
to be thus eminently and honourably useful, if he were 
only willing to undergo the requisite labour for the 
purpose ? While laziness and vice are every day 
clouding the prospects and degrading the reputation 
of thousands, making them cumberers of the ground, 
instead of benefactors of their species; there is no 
doubt that, in a multitude of cases, the mere qualities 
of unwearied industry and inflexible honesty have 
exalted men of plain talents to the highest ranks of 
usefulness and honour. Why, why are so few willing, 
who have it in their power, to make the experiment ? 

But there is such a thing as being incessantly occu- 
pied, and yet not industrious. This is the case with 
him who has no regular system of employment, who 
is constantly the sport of new occurrences ; who is 
continually getting in arrears with his business, and 
always in a hurry to overtake it, but never able. Such 
persons never accomplish much, and their work, such 
as it is, is hardly ever done in time. I once knew a 
most worthy man, an alumnus of our college, who had 
an active mind, and who was seldom idle. But he had 
not the power of pursuing any qjie object long at a 
time. He was incessantly forming new projects of 
literary works, but never carried any one of them 
into execution. I seldom met him without finding his 
mind occupied with some new scheme, and having 
apparently altogether abandoned that which absorbed 
his attention at the date of the preceding interview. 
The consequence was, that, although conscientious, 
pious, and by no means idle, his life was comparatively 
15* 



174 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

■wasted in promises never realized, and in efforts alto- 
gether abortive. Real industry is that "which wisely 
and maturely forms a plan, which firmly and patiently 
pursues it from day to day, until it is brought to a 
plenary conclusion. Perseverance is one of the essential 
qualities of genuine industry. He who works with 
zeal and diligence for a few days, and then either 
breaks off altogether, or suffers himself to be interrupted 
by every frivolous occurrence, will never build up a 
very firm or elevated fame. "How is it that you 
accomplish so much ?" said a friend to the great 
pensioner, De Witt, of Holland. " By doing one thing 
at a time," replied the eminent statesman. 

How many hours per diem you ought to study, and 
in what precise way these hours ought to be distributed 
in the twenty-four, I shall not attempt to prescribe. 
This depends so much on the state of health, the phy- 
sical temperament, and the diversified circumstances 
of each individual, that it is impossible to lay down a 
rule which shall suit all equally well. Some, who study 
with intense application whenever they are thus en- 
gaged, ought not to employ in this manner more than 
six hours each day ; while those whose application of 
mind in such cases is less intense and absorbing, may 
venture on ten or even twelve hours in every twenty- 
four, without injury. The slow and phlegmatic must, 
of course, employ more time over their books than those 
whose mental operations are more rapid and ardent. 
But see that, as far as possible, no moment be either 
lost in vacuity or wasted on frivolity. 

It is truly wonderful to think how much may be 
accomplished by orSer mingled with diligence in our 
pursuits. He who has a time and a place for every- 
thing that he has to do, and who gains, by habit, the 
power of summoning his powers to the vigorous per- 
formance at the proper time, of the prescribed task, 
will soon learn to accomplish more in a day, than he 
who is frequently struggling with ennui and with indo- 
lence will be likely to accomplish in a month. 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 175 

And if you wish to be successfully industrious, make 
a point of being early risers. Lying long in bed in 
the morning is, in every view, a pernicious habit. It 
seldom fails to exert a morbid influence on the bodily 
health. It is generally connected with languid feel- 
ings, and with want of decision and energy in every- 
thing. It may thus be said to cut off a number of years 
from the ordinary life of man. But the importance of 
this habit on the employments of a student is incalcu- 
lable. He who has much to do ought to begin early in 
the morning, not only because the minds of most people 
are most active and vigorous immediately after the 
repose of the night, but also because when a large part 
of our daily task is early accomplished, the interrup- 
tions of company, as the day advances, are less annoy- 
ing, and less destructive to the progress of our work. 
Sir Walter Scott, we are told by his biographer, was in 
the habit, at one period of his life, of having the greater 
part of his literary task for each day nearly completed 
at an early hour in the forenoon, thus leaving a num- 
ber of hours every day to be devoted to the social and 
other employments, which his eminence and his multi- 
plied connections with his friends and the public un- 
avoidably brought upon him. This too was the great 
secret of the immense amount of labour accomplished 
by those eminent men in former times, whose ponderous 
folios we now look upon with amazement, and can 
scarcely find time to read. They were early risers. 
Whenever they had a great task to perform (and they 
always had some task on hand), they were steady and 
incessant in their labours. They lost no time in idle- 
ness or trifles. Imitate their example, and you may 
accomplish as much as they did. The laws of the col- 
lege which call you up at an early hour, and enjoin 
upon you an early retirement to rest, may now seem 
to you a hardship ; but if you live a few years, you 
will regard them in a very different light. 



LETTER XIV. 

ASSOCIATIONS— FRIENDSHIPS. 

" Nbscitur a sociis." — Anon. 

" It is certain that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, 
is caught as men take diseases, one of another ; therefore take 
heed of your compan y." — Shakspeare. 

My Dear Sons — I can well remember the time, 
when, in the prospect of entering a college, my im- 
pressions of the character of such an institution were 
of the most interesting kind. I expected to find my- 
self united to a society of young gentlemen, of polished 
manners, of honourable feelings and habits, and of 
ardent and generous literary emulation. I had been 
experimentally aware that, in inferior seminaries, there 
are often found lads of vulgar character, and even of 
profligate principles, and grossly revolting habits. But 
in a college I expected to find the very elite of literary 
young men ; and to meet, in all its classes, and espe- 
cially in its more advanced ones, circles with whom it 
would be both delightful and improving to maintain 
intercourse. Judge, then, of my surprise, when I 
found that, even in a college, there were sometimes to 
be seen young men of manners as vulgar and offensive, 
and of habits and principles as profligate, as elsewhere ; 
nay, in some rare instances, capable of the meanest as 
well as the most criminal practices ; and, therefore, 
that even here it was necessary to be select in associa- 
tions, and especially in intimacies. I might have re- 
flected, indeed, that human depravity appears in every 
connection and walk of life ; that he who expects to 
find it wholly excluded, even from the church of Grod, 
(176) 



ASSOCIATIONS — FEIENDSHIPS. 177 

cherishes a vain expectation ; and that, in circles of 
college students, it is the part of wisdom to be always 
on the watch, for ascertaining the character and avoid- 
ing the company of those young men whose touch is 
pollution, and whose intimacy is equally disreputable 
and perilous. 

It is a maxim of inspired wisdom (1 Cor. xv. 33) 
that " evil communications corrupt good manners." 
No one, however wise or firm, has a right to consider 
himself as above the reach of the danger against which 
we are warned by this maxim. Even the inspired 
apostle himself, the penman of the maxim, if not pro- 
tected by a special guardianship, would have been 
liable to suffer by the mischievous influence against 
which he guards us. How much greater the danger 
when the fascination of intercourse with the corrupt is 
indulged without restraint, and without the least ap- 
prehension of mischief? 

There are few situations, in which a base and profli- 
gate young man is capable of doing more injury to 
those about him, than in a college. The points of con- 
tact between those who study in the same institution, 
and especially in the same class, are so numerous and 
important, that it is difficult wholly to avoid contami- 
nation. The counsel, therefore, which I have to give 
on this subject, as it is unspeakably important, so you 
will find it no less difficult to follow in your daily in- 
tercourse. 

I take for granted, that you will lay it down as a 
fundamental principle in your social relations, to treat 
every fellow student with decorum, and even with ur- 
banity ; that you will study to be gentlemen, even 
amidst the freedom of college intercourse. This I have 
recommended, in another letter, with all the zeal of 
parental solicitude. Try as much as possible to have 
no disagreement, no contest with any one. " If it be 
possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with 
all." For this purpose, let the tones of your voice, 
and your whole air and manner, be free from that 



178 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

rough, acrid, insolent character, which young men of 
ardent minds, and buoyant feelings, are so apt to ex- 
hibit ; and which are the beginning of so many dis- 
tressing quarrels and disgraceful affrays. It has been 
my privilege, in the course of a long life, to be ac- 
quainted with several public men, of eminent talents, 
deeply and constantly engaged in political affairs ; and 
employed, for thirty or forty years together, in inter- 
course and collision with all sorts of men, from the 
most excellent to the most corrupt and vile. And yet, 
though not religious men, I have never heard of their 
giving or receiving a challenge to fight a duel ; never 
known them to be involved in any feud or broil with 
any one ; never seen them reduced to the necessity of 
defending themselves, either by the fist, the pen, or 
the tongue, from the ferocious attacks of ruffians. 
What was the reason of this ? Not because they had 
less discernment to perceive the designs of opponents ; 
or less sensibility to insult ; or less regard to their own 
dignity and honour than they ought to have had ; but 
because they were " swift to hear, slow to speak, slow 
to wrath;" because they had the faculty of "ruling 
their own spirits ;" because they saw the evil of dis- 
sension afar off, and avoided its approaches ; because 
their language and tones were habitually mild, and 
adapted to disarm and conciliate rather than to pro- 
voke ; in short, because they acted upon the maxim of 
the wise physician, who tells us, obsta principiis ; "an 
ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." This 
was the grand secret of such men going through life 
with peaceful, undisturbed dignity, beloved and confided 
in by the community, and constraining even the wicked 
to speak well of them. 

But who has not seen many, in public and private 
life, of a very opposite character ? Men of equal talents, 
and, in many respects, of equal integrity and moral 
worth ; but so morbidly sensitive to all opposition, so 
liable to the sallies of ungovernable passion, so hasty 
and unguarded in speech, and so incapable of all sober 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 179 

calculation of consequences, that they were constantly 
involved in broils, and sometimes in conflicts of dis- 
graceful and brutal violence. Such men are to be 
avoided almost as much as ferocious beasts. To speak 
to them is unsafe. To attempt to transact business with 
them requires all the vigilance and caution necessary 
in handling or approaching an exploding substance. 

Let me exhort you, then, my dear sons, as soon as 
possible to learn the character of all your fellow stu- 
dents, and especially of those with whom you are asso- 
ciated in the same class. If you perceive any to be 
particularly forward, or likely on account of any popu- 
lar qualities, to take the lead, scrutinize them with 
peculiar care. The moment you perceive any one to 
be profane, rude, vulgar, irritable, quarrelsome, or for- 
ward in plotting or executing mischief, however great 
his talents, mark him ; have as little to do with him as 
possible ; neither say nor do anything to provoke his 
resentment ; but avoid him, speak not to him, or of him 
more than you can help. If he discovers a disposi- 
tion to be intimate with you, do not repel him offen- 
sively ; but let him see, by negative rather than positive 
indications, that you prefer the company of other asso- 
ciates. If you go to the room of a corrupt and disor- 
derly fellow student ; if you are found in his company, 
or partaking w T ith him in any amusement, you may be 
unexpectedly implicated in some of his freaks or fol- 
lies, in a manner as unmerited as painful. I have 
known one event of this kind to involve an innocent 
and worthy student in serious and lasting difficulty. 
Indeed I would carry my advice to avoid all intercourse 
with the corrupt and disorderly, so far as to say, with 
earnestness, never allow yourselves to mix with the 
crowd which seldom fails to rush together, when any 
affray, great or small, occurs, either in the campus or 
in the street. However great the assemblage, and 
however strong the impulse of curiosity, refrain, if you 
can summon so much resolution, from approaching the 
scene. If you are present, with the most innocent 



180 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

intentions in the world, and with the most entire origi- 
nal freedom possible from the leading actors in the 
scene, some unexpected nervous excitement on your 
part, some remark of a reckless and foolish bystander, 
some blow intended for another lighting on yourselves, 
may render the gratification of a momentary curiosity 
a source of serious and lasting calamity. Often, very 
often have I had reason to be thankful, that some pro- 
vidential occurrence, rather than my own wisdom, 
prevented my making one of a crowd in which, from 
apparently small beginnings, passions were unexpect- 
edly inflamed, violence extended, and a number of indi- 
viduals suddenly implicated, and perhaps fatally injured, 
who had no connection whatever with the original con- 
flict. The truth is, such scenes ought to be just as 
carefully avoided as the track of a fearful tornado, 
when sweeping past our place of abode. 

But, my dear sons, while you avoid, with the utmost 
vigilance, the company of such young men as I have 
described, and all contact with such scenes of violence 
as those to which I have referred, remember that 
social intercourse with your fellow students, when 
wisely conducted, is of great value, and may be made 
the source of essential benefits. I say, when wisely 
conducted ; for there is here great need of judgment 
and caution. Be not in haste to form intimacies. 
Enlightened and safe friendship is a plant of slow 
growth. No wise young man will give his heart and 
his confidence to one with whom he is only slightly 
acquainted. He will not only scrutinize his character 
with care himself, but he will also carefully mark how 
the candidate for his favour is regarded and treated 
by the best judges, who have been longer and more 
intimately acquainted with him. Try, as far as possi- 
ble, to select, as the objects of your confidence, some 
of the best talents and the best scholarship among 
your fellow students. From such, provided their 
moral and social qualities do not render them danger- 
ous, you may expect to derive most pleasure, most 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 181 

intellectual excitement, most solid instruction. Guard 
against the error of having too many intimates. It 
frequently happens that sanguine, raw young men, 
find confidents in every place of their residence, whe- 
ther for a longer or shorter time. Such confidential 
relations ought always to be very few, and very cau- 
tiously formed. He who makes them many will soon 
find himself betrayed and embarrassed. Not one 
friend in a thousand is fit to be entrusted with the 
private concerns of others, and especially with those 
personal secrets which it is the interest of every one 
to conceal from the public. Even where there is a 
strict sense of honour, essential weakness of character 
renders many a worthy individual an utterly unsafe 
depositary of confidential communications. I have 
met with but two or three friends in a long life whom 
I found it prudent thus to trust. You will be very 
fortunate if you meet with more than one in all your 
college. 

But further, be not so intimate with any, as either 
to waste in social intercourse that time of your own 
which ought to be spent in study ; or to encroach on 
their time in such a manner as to interrupt them in 
the performance of their duty. I have known some 
students so inconsiderate as to spend a portion of 
almost every day in going from room to room, visiting 
their fellow students. Such young men lessen their 
own dignity ; make their visits cheap ; waste their 
own time ; and invade the time, the studies, and, of 
course, the comfort of others. Lord Bacon was accus- 
tomed, with emphasis, to say — " Temporis fures 
amici." Cotton Mather, and, after him, Dr. Watts, 
caused to be inscribed, in large letters, over their study 
doors, these words — "be short." That student who 
spends much time in his social visits, gives ample evi- 
dence that he is neglecting his„studies, and is likely to 
make a poor scholar. But this is not all : he will 
very soon become an unwelcome visitant to all, except- 
ing those who are as indolent and reckless as himself. 
16 



182 ASSOCIATIONS— FRIENDSHIPS. 

In all your intercourse with your fellow students, 
adhere to the strictest principles of delicacy and hon- 
our. Never betray, or take the advantage of any 
confidence reposed in you. Never employ any indi- 
rect arts, or insidious means, to raise yourselves, or to 
depress others. Never allow yourselves to use any 
information or opportunity which your intimacy may 
give, either directly or indirectly, to the injury of one 
whom you call your friend. In short, I would say, 
never permit yourselves to make any use of the most 
unguarded disclosure, or of the most confidential con- 
versation, which you would not be perfectly willing 
that all the world should know, and that all your 
friends should apply to yourselves. Begin now, my 
dear sons, when your social character is forming, to 
despise and hate everything like trick, deceit, or un- 
derhand management, in your intercourse with others ; 
everything that shuns the light, or which, if known, 
would be considered as inconsistent with perfect fair- 
ness and candour. No one can tell How much of that 
which is now concealed, and which he supposed could 
never be known, may one day be unexpectedly dragged 
to light. Let the most' entire sincerity, openness, and 
manly integrity shine in every part of your conversa- 
tion and deportment. I should be greatly mortified 
if any of your companions should be able to say, that 
while professing to be his friend, you had taken the 
advantage of your intimacy, in the least tittle, to wound 
his reputation, or injure his feelings. 

Nay, I would go one step further, and say, not only 
adhere to the strictest integrity and honour in all your 
intercourse with those whom you call your friends, and 
who you are willing should be so regarded ; but also 
toward your opponents, and even your bitterest ene- 
mies. If the worst enemy I have in the world should, 
in an unguarded moment, utter in my hearing a speech 
which he did not deliberately intend to make, or dis- 
close a fact which he earnestly wished to conceal, or 
drop from his pocket a private paper, which he was 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 183 

solicitous to keep from others — I should, in most cases, 
consider myself as bound in honour not to divulge 
them. Hence the unanimity with which all honour- 
able people condemn the repeating of private conver- 
sation ; and hence the severity with which all well 
constituted and delicate minds reprobate the conduct 
of the eavesdropper, who gains a knowledge of domes- 
tic secrets, or party plans, by mean, secret listening. 
If I can approach my enemy, or meet my opponent in 
open warfare, every honourable mind will justify me 
in doing so : but I would not for the world consent to 
be, or to employ, a spy, whom all civilized nations 
concur in sending to the gallows. 

It is a maxim of policy with some students to seek 
and cultivate intimacies with such of their college 
companions as belong to the most wealthy and con- 
spicuous families ; accordingly, when a son of a Presi- 
dent of the United States, or of a distinguished mem- 
ber of Congress, or of a citizen of great wealth enters 
college, it is considered as good policy by many calcu- 
lating youth early to make their acquaintance, and to 
become, as far as possible, intimate with them. There 
is much less wisdom in this than is commonly supposed. 
The sons of such distinguished parents are seldom 
sober-minded and virtuous. They have been commonly 
too much accustomed to gaiety, and company, and 
dissipation, and luxurious living, to be either diligent 
students or good scholars. Their habits, too, are apt 
to be lax and expensive ; and they too frequently be- 
tray into unlawful liberties and unexpected and incon- 
venient expenses, those who court their company ; and, 
in the end, in nine cases out of ten, they cost much 
more than they profit us. The truth is, instead of 
seeking, anterior to inquiry and experience, peculiar 
intimacy with such young men, I should be more dis- 
trustful of such than of others ; more afraid of their 
proffered friendship ; more apprehensive of danger 
from being found much in their company ; more careful 
to scrutinize the real stamp and bearing of their char- 



184 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENSDHIPS. ' 

acter, than if, with equally plausible appearances, they 
had more moderate claims, and had been brought up 
with more humble retiring simplicity. The sons of 
pious parents, and sometimes even of eminent ministers 
of the gospel, have, in some instances, turned out to 
be profligate, and proved pestiferous companions : but, 
on the other hand, young men trained in pious families, 
in regular habits, in plain and moderate expenditures, 
and with a reliance, under God, on their own efforts, 
for success in life, are, in general, the most safe and 
profitable associates, and, of course, most worthy of 
being selected as friends. 

In short, I hope you will act in college as the wise 
and the virtuous act in the ordinary intercourses of 
society. Be on amicable and neighbourly terms with 
all, excepting the profligate and vile. With them have 
no intercourse that can possibly be avoided. Never 
visit them. Never be seen in their rooms or their 
company, however great their talents, or however emi- 
nent their scholarship. Let your selectest intimacies 
be with youth of the highest character for talents and 
attainments, provided their moral character be un- 
blemished and pure, and especially, if they give evi- 
dence of sincere piety. Where there is true religion, 
there is something that is worthy of confidence, and 
that may always be made profitable to you, even though 
accompanied with only moderate intellectual powers, 
and medium scholarship. 

I shall close this letter by putting you on your guard 
against a particular weakness w T hich I have often 
observed to have a place, and to exert no small influence, 
among associates in college. I mean the cowardice 
and servility of those who feel as if they were bound 
to imitate their companions in everything ; and as if 
all departure from this imitation were to be considered 
as so many marks of painful inferiority. Often — 
very often — have I known youthful members of college 
anxious to be like their classmates, and other associates, 
in everything ; following the same fashions ; going to 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 185 

the same places of resort ; manifesting the same supe- 
riority to parental supervision and restraint ; and 
mortified if they could not take the same liberties, and 
display the same independence in all their movements. 
This is so far from being a manly, independent spirit, 
that it is directly the reverse. It argues a weak 
dependence on others for giving law to our conduct. 
Is it manly or wise to follow the shadows of others, 
perhaps no more entitled to be a model than yourselves ? 
If you do not follow their example, is it not quite as 
true that they do not follow yours ? Besides, if you 
must be conformed, to the wishes of others, is it not 
much better that you should consult the judgment, and 
be regulated by the wishes of those who know you 
best, who love you most, who take a deeper interest in 
your welfare, and understand what will promote that 
welfare better than any others ; than that you should 
follow in the wake of inexperienced, thoughtless com- 
panions, who are miserable judges of what is best either 
for you or themselves ; who actually care nothing about 
your real welfare ; and only wish to make you subser- 
vient to their present pleasure ? I have been a thousand 
times Jboth surprised and disgusted to find amiable and 
ingenuous youth, so cowardly and servile in their 
constant reference to the habits of their fellow students, 
that they were ready to break through the wishes, and 
even the authority of parents and guardians, for the 
sake of indulging this imitative spirit. Those who feel 
and act thus, may imagine that they manifest manliness 
and independence of character ; but they were never 
more deceived. In the whole business they are dis- 
playing a childish reliance on the authority of children 
like themselves, as weak as it is mischievous. 



LETTER XV. 



LITEEARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. # 

Concordia res parvas crescunt, discordia maximae dilabuntur. 

Sallust. 

Comes jucundus in vi& pro vehiculo est. — Publ. Syr. 

My Dear Sons — -The " American Whig' ' and " Clio- 
sophic" societies have long existed in the College of 
New Jersey, and have exerted no small influence on 
the improvement and character of its students. I will 
not trouble you now with any details of the history of 
those societies. You know that the great professed 
purpose of their institution was that they might pro- 
mote some important objects, which the ordinary exer- 
cises of the college were not so well adapted to secure, 
particularly a spirit of fraternal friendship among the 
students, and also a laudable emulation in literature, 
science, manners, and morals. Such is the theory of 
these institutions ; and if their actual administration 
had always been in faithful conformity with this theory, 
they would, no doubt, have produced fruits of far 
greater value than have been ever realized. But large 
allowance must always be made for the management 
of every association conducted by ardent young men, 
of little experience, of sanguine feelings, and of much 
self-confidence. 

Still these societies are truly valuable, and worthy 
of encouragement ; and it gives me pleasure to know 
that you are connected with one of them. My great 
design in referring to the subject, is to take an oppor- 
tunity of urging upon you to prize this connection 

(186) 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 187 

highly, and to study, by all the means in your power, 
to make it profitable to yourselves and all your fellow 
members. 

You are aware of the evils which are apt to arise and 
to interfere both with the comfort and the usefulness 
of such associations among young men in college. The 
same evils which disturb all other society are apt, of 
course, to operate here. Beside these, there are 
many arising from the inexperience, the ardour, the 
rashness, the vanity, the pride, and the other passions 
of youth. It has been sometimes observed, that there 
are no disciplinarians more rigorous, and even intole- 
rant than young men. But their rigour is apt to be 
spasmodic and unseasonable, and to be followed by 
paroxysms of indulgence, levity, irritation, disorder, 
and even violence far more revolting than their spasms 
of rigour. If the same members could continue to act 
for twenty or thirty years together, these evils would 
be gradually, but certainly diminished. This, how- 
ever, cannot be the case. A constant succession of 
the raw, the ardent, and the inexperienced, are 
destined to be the counsellors and the guides in every 
measure. 

The simple statement of these evils will itself go far 
toward furnishing an index both to their prevention 
and their correction. You ought to be continually 
learning in the hall of your society not only those 
lessons which will tend to your improvement in mental 
culture, and in literary acquirement and taste ; but 
also in whatever is adapted to refine your moral and 
social feelings, and polish your manners. Here you 
ought continually to cherish that generous, fraternal 
emulation which seeks to excel, and, instead of sicken- 
ing with envy at the talents and success of others, is 
stimulated by laudable efforts to overtake and surpass 
them. Here you ought to be constantly excited to 
higher and higher acquisitions in every intellectual ac- 
complishment. Here it ought to be your aim, amidst 
all the diversities of temper, all the jarrings of youthful 



188 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

passion and all the ebullitions of ignorance, inexpe- 
rience and rashness, to cherish with studious care the 
virtues of self-command, prudence, gentleness, and 
habitual respectfulness. The hall of your society may 
be regarded as a foretaste of what you are to meet 
with, on a greater scale, on the theatre of the world. 
It has been your fortune to be personally acquainted 
with some, who, amidst all the folly, the turbulence, 
the vulgarity, and the ill-manners of many with whom 
they came in contact, were never involved in any em- 
barrassing quarrel, but steered through life with a re- 
markable exemption from feuds and animosities. And ' 
you have known others so morbidly touchy and in- 
flammable themselves, and, at the same time, so re- 
gardless of the feelings of others, as to be perpetually 
involved in broils and conflicts wherever they went. 
Tempers and scenes of both these classes are not un- 
known even in the halls of literary societies. And I 
would earnestly exhort you to let your . hall, whenever 
it may be opened, be a place of moral as well as intel- 
lectual discipline. To this end, the following counsels, 
I will venture confidently to say, are worthy of your 
serious consideration. 

1. Faithfully resist the election of any member into 
your society who is known to be remarkable for his bad 
scholarship, his vulgar or immoral habits, or his inso- 
lent, perverse temper. Let no temptation of adding to 
your numbers induce you to vote for admitting any 
student of this character. Such persons, when unfor- 
tunately introduced, seldom fail to give more trouble 
than they are worth. They weaken and degrade, 
rather than strengthen any society to which they be- 
long; and sometimes have been known, by their vulgar, 
profligate insolence, to inflict lasting disgrace, and all 
but ruin on the body with which they were connected. 
Let nothing deter you from opposing their introduction. 
Do it mildly ; do it in guarded language ; and if no 
other method be likely to succeed, propose respectfully 
a committee of inquiry, and inform that committee 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 189 

confidentially of the reasons of your opposition. If 
this were faithfully done, no one can estimate the happy 
influence which might thereby be exerted on the cha- 
racter of a band of students. 

2. Be perfectly punctual in your attendance on all 
the meetings of the society to which you belong, and 
perform with diligence and fidelity every task which its 
rules may impose upon you. Never either neglect or 
slight any exercise which it becomes your duty to per- 
form. That which is worth doing at all is worth doing 
well. To refuse the time and labour necessary to its 
execution in the best manner, is doing injustice to your 
fellow members, as well as cheating yourselves. If the 
principles of the society are not faithfully carried into 
execution, it might as well, nay better, be disbanded. 

3. Make a point of addressing all your fellow mem- 
bers with politeness and respect. Let your hall, so far 
as you are concerned, be a school of the strictest 
urbanity and respectfulness. Let no opposite tone or 
conduct on the part of others tempt you for a moment 
to deviate from this course. "A soft answer turneth 
away wrath." Nothing tends more directly to disarm 
passion or insolence than either a dignified silence in 
some cases, and in others a rigid observance of the laws 
of urbanity and respectfulness. I know it is your 
desire to avoid all those feuds, broils, and scenes of 
violence which are so apt to grow out of youthful ani- 
mosities, and which are too frequently followed by 
results as criminal as they are silly and contemptible. 
It is impossible to measure the happy influence which 
one member of such a society, whose example is per- 
fectly correct and gentlemanly, may impart to all his 
fellow members. 

4. Endeavour, by all the means in your power, to 
render the society to which you belong, a source of dis- 
cipline in morals, as well as in literary and scientific 
improvement. Remember that you are bound by the 
principles of your institution to frown upon all dis- 
order and immorality, as well as upon bad scholarship, 



190 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

and intellectual negligence. Of course, no student, 
known to be habitually immoral, ought to be admitted 
into your society ; and whenever it becomes apparent, 
that any one who has been admitted is immoral, he ought 
immediately to be suspended, and if he persists in his 
delinquency, he ought to be forthwith expelled. A few 
such examples would, do a literary society essential 
good ; would do more to elevate its character, and in 
the end, to add to its numbers, than could well be told. 
Let every member recollect, that a large portion of the 
trust for keeping the society, to which he belongs, in 
this state of moral health, is committed to him ; and 
that he can do more by bearing a faithful testimony, 
from time to time, in favour of moral correctness, than 
he would easily believe. By throwing out proper sen- 
timents on this subject upon all suitable occasions, and 
by voting for strict discipline in all cases of delinquency, 
each one may become a conservator of the moral char- 
acter, and consequently, of the true honour of the so- 
ciety, to an extent which invests every member with a 
mighty power of doing good. 

5. You are aware that most of the literary societies 
in colleges avail themselves of the principle of secrecy, 
to increase curiosity and interest in their favour. 
Whether this feature in their constitutions is dictated 
by wisdom, and confers any real advantage, is a ques- 
tion which I do not think proper now to discuss. No one, 
however, of correct and honourable feelings can doubt 
for a moment that, as long as this principle is actually 
incorporated in the plan of any society to which he be- 
longs, he is bound strictly and delicately to adhere to 
it, and to avoid everything which borders on an infringe- 
ment of it. Nay, more ; if any of the secrets of a 
rival society should by any means become known to 
you, my judgment is, that true delicacy of sentiment 
ought to prevent you from divulging them to a human 
being. If a son of mine, after accidentally becoming 
possessed of such secrets, were to disclose them, I 
should consider him as dishonoured. 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 191 

6. Guard with sacred care against a spirit of carp- 
ing and animosity toward a rival society. This is a 
very mischievous evil. The beginning of it is like 
the letting out of water. It generates strife. It 
occupies time which ought to be reserved for higher 
and better objects. And in some cases it has grown to 
a mass of mischief which no one anticipated, and over 
which all mourned. Evils of this kind, every one sees 
afterwards, might easily have been prevented by a 
small measure of coolness and prudence in the begin- 
ning. I firmly believe that the most of those disagree- 
ments which have interfered with amicable and pleasant 
co-operation in public festive services between rival 
societies, have arisen either from the littleness of punc- 
tilio, or from the equally censurable littleness of false 
honour, and weak jealousy, which ought to have no 
place in elevated minds. 

7. But especially be careful in no case to allow your 
society to set itself against the authority of the college. 
This is like a civil war in the state, always to be 
avoided at almost any sacrifice. Even when the 
authority of the college is manifestly acting under an 
entire mistake in regard to facts, there may be, without 
impropriety, calm statements, and even respectful re- 
monstrance ; but in no case an attempt to exercise 
counter authority. Any society in a literary institution 
which should attempt this, in any form, ought instantly 
to be dissolved. A faculty would be wanting to itself, 
and unfaithful to the institution committed to its care, 
which should suffer such a rebellious society to exist for 
a single hour. 

8. I will only add, let it be your Constant study to 
render the society to which you belong as respectable, 
as useful, and as happy as possible. It has been de- 
lightful to observe how some individuals have endeared 
themselves to the society to which they belonged, by 
an amiable gentlemanly deportment ; by a faithful dis- 
charge of all the duties which they owed to it ; by em- 
bracing every opportunity of promoting its best interests, 



192 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

and adding to its true honour. In the records of every 
such society you always find a few names handed down as 
benefactors from one generation of students to another. 
Let it be your study thus to transmit your own names 
with honour to coming times. 



LETTER XV. 



DRESS. 



-"Of outward form 



Elaborate, of inward less exact." — Milton. 

My Dear Sons — There are two extremes in regard 
to dress into which I have observed that college students 
are apt to fall. The one is a total negligence of it, 
leading to a disgusting slovenliness ; the other a de- 
gree of scrupulous attention to it, which indicates fop- 
pery and dandyism. It is my earnest desire that none 
of my sons may fall into either of these extremes. 
And let it be remembered that they are both peculiarly 
apt to be adopted by students who board and lodge 
together in the same public edifice. There is some- 
thing in the gregarious principle, which while it is pro- 
ductive of much good, is by no means unattended with 
serious evil. 

Some good scholars, and young men otherwise en- 
tirely exemplary, have been notoriously slovenly in 
their dress. But it was a real blemish in their char- 
acter, and was connected with no little disadvantage. 
It is no disgrace to a student to be poor ; to be obliged 
to wear a threadbare, and even a patched garment. 
It is rather to his honour, and ought to be so felt by 
him, to be strictly economical ; to dress according to 
his circumstances ; and never to purchase new clothes 
until he is able honestly to pay for them. He who 
does otherwise is really the mean and dishonest man. 
But let not his economical dress be slouching or filthy. 
Let him not w T alk about among his fellows, for hours 
after rising, with his shoes down at the heel, with his 

17 (193) 



194 dress/ 

stockings hanging loose about his legs ; or any part of 
his clothing visibly begrimed with dirt. Cleanliness 
and neatness are among the moral virtues, and can 
never be neglected by any one with impunity. We 
have no more right to render our persons disgusting to 
those who approach us, than we have to mutilate and 
enfeeble them. It is a duty, however scanty or old 
our garments may be, to see that they be neat and 
clean, and that our persons be kept, according to the 
best of our ability, in a manner evincing decency and 
care. I have sometimes seen young men passing 
through the corridors of college, and entering the reci- 
tation rooms, and even the prayer-hall, with their dress 
so broken, slovenly and dirty, as manifested little 
respect either for their instructors, or the God whom 
they professed to worship, or even for themselves. 

But there is another extreme against which every 
student ought to be put on his guard. I mean that of 
inordinate and idolatrous attention to dress, which 
manifests the expenditure of much time and money on 
the object, and which designates the fop and the dandy. 
The wise youth, the real gentleman, will always try 
to dress in such a manner as not to draw attention at 
all to his dress. His only study will be to have it 
always so plain, simple, neat, and becoming his charac- 
ter, as that no one will find occasion to take special 
notice of it. Happily you are not able to dress in a 
profuse and expensive manner. The circumstances of 
your father forbid your indulging yourselves in that 
ornate and splendid costume to which perhaps your 
inclination, if unrestrained, might lead. But if I 
were ever so wealthy, my judgment would be against 
allowing you to indulge in costly and extravagant 
adorning of the body, which is criminal in itself, and 
which seldom fails to mark the frivolous mind. I never 
knew a diligent student, a really good scholar, to 
indulge in this habit ; and whenever I see a young 
man falling into it, I always involuntarily set him down 
in my own mind as a poor trifler. 



DRESS. 195 

If you ask me, where is the harm of indulging in 
showy and expensive habits of dress ? I answer, it 
must occupy a large share of time and attention, which 
ought to be bestowed on better objects ; and hence 
those students who are distinguished by ostentatious 
and expensive clothing are never good scholars. It 
would be almost encroaching on the province of a 
miracle if they were. But this is not all. This habit is 
adapted to do mischief among their fellow students. 
Those who cannot afford, and ought not to attempt to 
indulge in the same habit, are often tempted to imitate 
it, and thus their parents become unnecessarily involved 
in an expense altogether inconvenient and perhaps 
distressing. By this means the cost of a college edu- 
cation is greatly increased, and placed beyond the 
reach of many who might otherwise enjoy it. Nor is 
this the worst effect. By emulating the habits in this 
respect of the sons of the wealthy, the sons of those 
in less affluent circumstances are tempted, contrary to 
the laws of the college, to get that upon improper 
credit, which they were not able to pay for, and which 
ought never to have been gotten at all, and thus shut 
themselves up to the distressing and humiliating di- 
lemma, of either bringing an unauthorized and burden- 
some debt on their parents ; or of ultimately defrauding 
the tradesman who was weak enough, or wicked enough 
to give them credit. If there be any student so un- 
principled as to reply, that he does not feel bound to 
regard such considerations — that he cares for nothing 
but his own comfort — be it known to such an one, 
that he stands on substantially the same ground with 
the burglar and the highwayman, who act upon the 
principle of consulting their own comfort at the expense 
of others, which is, in fact, the vital spirit of all crime. 

There is another fault in regard to dress, of which I 
cannot help expressing strong reprobation. I mean 
the disposition manifested by some to wear fantastic 
dresses, not particularly expensive, perhaps not so ex- 
pensive as many plainer and more simple garments ; 



196 DRESS. 

but whimsical, queer, and adapted to excite ridicule 
wherever they are seen. I remember one young man, 
who, a number of years ago, appeared in our college 
campus, and in our streets, in a dress of the most ridi- 
culous kind. Wherever he went he attracted the no- 
tice, and excited the laughter of all classes. This 
seemed to gratify him ; for he was incapable of attain- 
ing any more laudable distinction ; and he persisted 
in wearing the garment for a considerable time. He 
w T as hissed, and all but insulted by the boys in the 
streets, and might have been involved in serious broils 
with his assailants, had he not, fortunately, possessed 
a baby-like weakness, rather than an irritable or pug- 
nacious temperament. It is easy to conceive how such 
a dress might involve its wearer in perpetual difficulty, 
and even in fatal conflicts. 

It is well known, that in some literary institutions 
there is a prescribed dress, or uniform, in which all its 
pupils daily appear, and which it is not lawful to lay 
aside, excepting in vacation, when absent from the in- 
stitution, or, at any rate, exempt from its rules. There 
appear to me to be some very substantial advantages 
in this regulation. In the first place, it promotes eco- 
nomy ; for the prescribed dress is always plain, simple, 
cheap, and easily procured, and when obtained by whole- 
sale, for large numbers, will be, of course, reduced in 
price. Secondly, it destroys that expensive emulation 
in dress, to which I have before referred, as so full of 
mischief. As all must dress alike, it leaves no room 
for ostentatious display. And thirdly, where this rule 
is in operation, all the students of the institution are 
known by their costume ; so that the moment they are 
seen, they can be distinguished from all others. This 
appears to me an effect of no small importance. I 
have always considered it as highly desirable that the 
pupils of any institution should be distinguishable at 
all times, day and night, from the youth of the sur- 
rounding population. It operates as a restraint, as a 
safeguard, and has, doubtless, prevented a thousand 



DRESS. 19T 

mischiefs, which would otherwise have occurred, and 
been the means of dragging to light a thousand more 
which might have been for ever hidden from human 
view. 

For myself, I have always regretted that the old 
practice of wearing the black gown in the recitation 
room, in the chapel, and on all public occasions, has 
been laid aside by the students of Nassau Hall, and I 
believe, by those of most other colleges in the United 
States. In our commencement exercises alone, if I 
mistake not, this appendage is retained ; and in some 
other colleges it is, even on these occasions, discarded. 
This is, in my opinion, an improvement the backward 
way. I have no doubt that this particular costume 
had, when it was worn, a beneficial effect on the feel- 
ings of the individual who wore it ; that it led him to 
recollect his responsibility ; to feel that he was ob- 
served, and to maintain a deportment growing out of 
this feeling. Nor can I hesitate to believe, that an 
impression was made by it on the minds of others by 
no means without profit. Forms may be carried so 
far as to eat out all substance ; but it is also true, that 
they may be so far abandoned as to carry all refine- 
ment and decorum, and especially all dignity, with 
them. 

17* 



LETTER XVII, 



CARE OF THE STUDENT'S BOOM. 



" He who can sit with comfort in a disorderly room, cannot 
have an orderly mind/' — Anon. 



My Dear Sons — The maxim of the lawyers, De 
minimis non curat lex, though wise and applicable in 
juridical matters, is not equally safe and sound in 
many of the affairs of common life, and especially in 
the large department of human conduct, comprehended 
under the general title of personal manners and habits. 
The comfort of ordinary life depends much less upon 
great actions and movements, which occur only now 
and then, than on the minor concerns of temper, lan- 
guage and order, which belong to every hour, and 
exert an influence on all the enjoyments of life. 

The maintenance of perfect order, in the apartment 
which you occupy, is a matter of more importance, 
and has a more direct bearing on your comfort, and 
even your success in study, than you would, at first 
view, imagine. So deep is my persuasion of this, that 
I am induced to make it the subject of a distinct but 
brief letter, which, I trust, will be sufficiently interest- 
ing, in your view, to engage your serious attention. 

If the motto which stands at the head of this letter 
be considered as expressing a correct sentiment, then 
the subject of it ought not to be regarded as a trivial 
matter. That which either indicates a disorderly mind, 
or which is adapted to increase and perpetuate this 

(198) 



CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 199 

evil, surely ought to be avoided with studious care. 
Many people judge of a student by the appearance of 
his room : and certainly when it lies in disorder and 
dirt, no favourable estimate of his character can pos- 
sibly be drawn from it. 

It is possible that some students who affect slovenli- 
ness in their dress, as an evidence that they are too 
much absorbed in study to think of their persons, may 
affect the same carelessness in regard to the apart- 
ments which they occupy. I will not pronounce all 
such appearances the result of mere affectation; but, 
beyond all doubt, they mark a lamentable defect of 
character, and cannot fail to deduct seriously from 
both the comfort and the usefulness of the Individual 
to whom they belong. 

A disorderly and unclean apartment is unfriendly to 
the comfortable and uninterrupted pursuit of study. 
The physical inconvenience to which it gives rise, can 
scarcely fail to interfere with a pleasant flow of men- 
tal thought. When books are out of their proper 
places ; w T hen all the means of study are in disorder, it 
would be strange, indeed, if the operations of the mind 
could proceed in as smooth and unobstructed a man- 
ner as if the external circumstances were different. 

Make a point, then, of keeping everything in your 
study in a state of perfect neatness and regularity. 
Whether your books be few or many, keep them in 
their proper places, and in perfect order. Let all 
your manuscripts be so arranged as that you shall be 
able to lay your hand upon any one of them in a mo- 
ment. Tie your pamphlets in bundles, in a certain 
order, understood by yourself, and as soon as may be 
get them bound in convenient volumes. Fold, label, 
and deposit in proper drawers, all loose papers, so as 
to be at no loss to find any one of them whenever 
called for. And in general, let everything in your 
study bear the marks of order, system, and perfect 
neatness. You can have no conception, without hav- 
ing made the experiment, how much time and trouble 



200 CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 

■will be saved by the adoption of this plan. "When you 
are tempted to think that you have not time to put a 
book or paper, which you have been using, into its 
proper place, ask yourselves whether it may not cost 
you an hour or more afterwards to search for that, 
which half a minute would have sufficed to deposit in 
its appropriate situation. Let me advise you also to 
preserve and file copies of all your letters, and especi- 
ally those on any kind of business ; and when you can- 
not find time for this, to keep at least a distinct memo- 
randum of the dates, principal contents, conveyance, &c, 
of all such letters. You will, in the end, save more 
time by this regularity than you can now easily ima- 
gine. Afuong the many omissions in my early life, I 
have a thousand times lamented my having omitted, 
for many years, to keep copies of my business letters, 
and to preserve and file, in proper order, other impor- 
tant papers, so as to have them accessible at any time 
without the loss of a moment. How much time I have 
lost, and how much trouble I have incurred by this 
failure, no arithmetic at my command can calculate. 

Some of the most eminent men, for wisdom and use- 
fulness, that the world has ever seen, were remarkable 
for their attention to the subject of this letter. Wash- 
ington, the father of his country, from his early youth, 
was distinguished for his perfect method and neatness 
in everything. During the whole of his public life, 
we are told, he was punctual in filing and labeling 
every paper, however small, or apparently trivial, 
which related to any concern or act of his life ; even 
notes of ceremony ; not knowing what measure of im- 
portance any such paper might afterwards assume. 
So that no written document could be called for, relat- 
ing to his official life, which he could not at any time 
produce. 

Let no student say, that his papers can never be so 
important as were those of Washington; and that, 
therefore, there cannot be the same inducement to pre- 
serve, and keep them in order. It is, indeed, by no 



CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 201 

means probable that your papers will be as important 
to the public, as those of that illustrious man were ; 
but they may be of quite as much importance to 
yourself; and no man can tell of how much interest 
they may be to your country. Peculiar and unex- 
pected circumstances may invest them with a degree 
of importance which you cannot now anticipate. At 
any rate, disposing them in proper and convenient 
order, and depositing them where they may be found 
in a moment, will occupy but little time, and may, 
long afterwards, serve purposes which you little ima- 
gined. 

The celebrated Mr. Whitefield, that "prince of 
preachers," in the last century, was greatly distin- 
guished, from early life, for neatness in his person, for 
order in his apartment, and for regular method in his 
affairs. He was accustomed to say, that a minister 
should be " without spot ;" and remarked, on one oc- 
casion, that he could not feel comfortable, if he knew 
that his gloves were out of their proper place. The 
advantages of establishing such habits are too numer- 
ous to be specified. They save time ; and the degree 
of comfort they give cannot be easily measured. 

The biographers of the late celebrated Mr. Wilber- 
force tell us, that that great and good man was rather 
remarkably careless in regard to regularity and order 
in his study. While he was indefatigably diligent in 
his labours for the public, his books and papers were 
always in disorder, lying in heaps, and frequently giv- 
ing rise to perplexity and delay, in searching for that 
which was wanted. On more than one occasion, im- 
portant papers, when called for by some of the most 
elevated persons in the kingdom, were out of their pro- 
per place, and not to be found ; which gave rise to an 
agitation and loss of time not a little painful. 

Good farmers and mechanics tell us, that it is im- 
portant to have "a place for everything, and every- 
thing in its place." This maxim is quite as applicable 
and important to the student as to any one else. The 



202 CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 

punctual observance of it not only saves time, as the 
slightest consideration will evince, but it tends to pre- 
serve tranquillity of mind ; and what in many cases is 
still more important, it may prevent the entire loss of 
papers, books, or other articles left out of their proper 
places. 



LETTER XVIII. 
EXPENSES. 

" Suum cuique." 



My Dear Sons — It is well known that the greater 
part of the students in our colleges belong to families 
in very moderate, and not a few of them in straitened 
circumstances, insomuch that many of them find it ex- 
tremely difficult to meet the expenses of the institu- 
tion ; and to some it would be impossible without the 
aid of charitable funds. If we could go through all 
the classes in these institutions, and examine the real 
circumstances of each individual, we should find many 
parents subjecting themselves and their families to the 
most pinching economy, really denying themselves some 
comforts, which many would call indispensable, for the 
sake of sustaining their sons through a course of educa- 
tion. In other cases we should see sons subjecting them- 
selves to a rigour of economy truly severe, and which, if 
it could be generally known, would be regarded as at 
once marvellous and honourable, as marking extraor- 
dinary decision of character. 

While this is the case with one class of students, 
there is another whose course belongs to the opposite 
extreme. Their supplies of money are abundant. In 
consequence of this they are profuse and wasteful. 
Some are permitted, and even encouraged by unwise 

(203) 



204 EXPENSES. 

parents, to indulge in habits of unnecessary expense ; 
and others, stimulated by this example, but less able to 
follow it, in spite of every charge that can be given 
them to the contrary, give way to those habits, and 
recklessly incur debts which prove greatly oppressive 
to their parents, and sometimes plunge them into serious 
difficulties. This latter class of students may be con- 
sidered as the pests of all literary institutions ; and, 
next to the grossly immoral and profligate, (with whom 
indeed, they are too often very closely connected) the 
means of the greatest injury to their fellow students. 
When a student has much money in his pocket, or feels 
confident that he can rely on receiving what he wishes, 
the mischiefs arising from this source are so multiplied, 
and so very serious, that it is wonderful wealthy parents 
will ever allow their children to be laden with such a 
curse. 

The mischiefs growing out of this " plethora of the 
pocket" to the students themselves who possess it, are 
more injurious and deplorable than any one would 
imagine who had not personally watched the process 
of such things. He who has money to spend, will, of 
course, have objects to spend it upon ; and these ob- 
jects will certainly be, to a great extent, hurtful. He 
will seldom fail to indulge himself in extra eating and 
drinking, which, from their unwholesome nature, as well 
as from their leading to excess in quantity, will fre- 
quently, if not always, do more or less harm to his 
health. To load the stomach with confectionery, and 
other luxuries ; to eat hot suppers over and above all 
ordinary meals ; to indulge in every rare and expensive 
viand, adapted to stimulate the appetite, and eventually 
to bring on a morbid state of the system ; — these are 
the habits which every young man who is flush of money 
is tempted to form ; and that their influence must be 
morbid and unhappy, and may lead to fatal diseases, 
no one who reflects on the subject can doubt. But 
these evils are not the whole of the mischief to be 
apprehended. The vices of students are commonly 



EXPENSES. 205 

social. In partaking of their luxurious meals and 
other indulgences, they are fond of having companions ; 
and they take pride in imparting of their plenty in this 
respect, gratuitously, to those who are not so plentifully 
provided with the means of indulgence. This extends 
the mischief in two ways. It increases the number of 
those w T ho are ensnared and injured ; and it tempts 
both parties, by the influence of the gregarious princi- 
ple, to eat and drink more than either would alone. 

Nor is this all. Those who are placed under no stint 
with regard to money, are tempted to be dissipated ; to 
neglect their studies ; to be arrogant and assuming ; to 
indulge themselves in various irregular practices, un- 
friendly to study, and adapted to betray them into 
various forms of disorderly conduct. All experience 
testifies that such students are usually the most disor- 
derly in the institution ; — very seldom even tolerable 
scholars, — and so, frequently the subjects of painful 
and disreputable discipline, and these unhappy results 
may be confidently calculated upon the moment any 
young man appears with a plentiful supply of money 
in his pocket. 

You have reason to be thankful, my dear sons, that 
the comparative poverty of your father cuts you off 
from these temptations. And I hope you consider this 
circumstance as a real advantage rather than the con- 
trary. Still allow me to put you on your guard against 
some temptations, which, notwithstanding this restric- 
tion on your means, may sometimes assail you. 

1. Never be ashamed of your narrow circumstances. 
Never affect to have money at will. Never allow your 
wealthy fellow students to imagine that you envy them, 
or that you wish to emulate their dress, their appear- 
ance, and their liberality of expenditure. I have some- 
times felt regret and mortification to see students, 
w T ho in intellectual and moral worth stood among the 
very first of their classes, who struggled to appear as 
well dressed as their wealthier companions, and seemed 
to give way to a painful sense of inferiority if they 
18 



206 EXPENSES. 

were unable to do it. There is a littleness in this of 
which a high-minded youth ought to be ashamed. Some 
of the most eminent and highly honoured men that the 
world ever saw, commenced their career in absolute 
poverty, and, what was much to their credit, were never 
ashamed in their highest advancement, to recollect and 
advert to their humble origin. Nay more, there was 
every reason to believe that their poverty, instead of 
being a disadvantage, was the stimulus which urged 
them on to diligence in study — to the highest efforts of 
which they were capable, and to ultimate greatness. It 
was, under God, the making of- them. 

2. Never accept of the gratuitous offers of your 
moneyed fellow students to share their luxuries with 
them, or to partake, at their expense, in any extra food 
or drink, or in any extra amusement, whether lawful or 
not, in which they may solicit you to accompany them. 
It is not safe to associate much with such students. It 
may expose you either to real disorder, or, at any rate, 
to the suspicion of the faculty, either of which ought 
to be sacredly avoided. There is also something painful 
to me, and I presume to every ingenuous mind, in being 
indebted to the bounty of such a young man for any 
enjoyment. Very few such young men have any real 
magnanimity; and they may imagine hereafter that 
you are their debtors, and feel as if you ought to recog- 
nize this debt, and be ready to return or acknowledge 
it. I have known gratuities of this kind to be cast in 
the teeth of those who consented to receive them, years 
afterwards, and to inflict not a little mortification. 
Never accept such gratuities. Whenever and by whom- 
soever offered, decline them with the respectfulness 
and urbanity of gentlemen, but with inflexible firmness. 

3. Never purchase anything that is not indispen- 
sable, while matters absolutely necessary remain un- 
provided for. What would you think of a student who 
should expend twenty or thirty dollars for a splendid 
set of books, which he could easily do without, while he 
had not wherewithal to pay his daily board, or to dis- 



EXPENSES. 207 

charge his bill for necessary clothing ? Let the honest 
principle, of giving to every one and to every claim 
what is justly due, and making a corresponding calcu- 
lation in all your expenditures, at all times, and 
throughout life, govern you. 

4. Never think of obtaining on credit what you have 
not the cash to pay for at the moment ; especially 
never consent thus to obtain that which is a mere lux- 
ury, and which, of course, you can do without. I 
have personally known students, who were the sons of 
parents in very moderate and even straitened circum- 
stances, who had so little self-command, that, when 
their pockets were empty, they would obtain on credit 
mere luxuries, and sometimes those of a very expen- 
sive kind ; and, perhaps, at the end of a session, had 
a bill brought in, the amount of which astonished them- 
selves, and greatly incommoded their parents. The 
practice of purchasing on credit, articles which are not 
necessary, is one which the wise, with one consent, 
agree in denouncing. It not only leads to all the evils 
just alluded to, but also to another no less serious. 
Those who purchase on credit must expect to pay con- 
siderably more for a given article than those who pay 
the cash. The seller who disposes of his property in 
this way always calculates on losing a considerable 
portion of the whole by delinquent debtors. To meet 
and cover this loss, his plan is to add a certain per- 
centage to the price of the article which he sells on 
credit ; so that the pockets of his punctual debtors are 
taxed to help him meet the loss sustained by his delin- 
quent ones. My solemn advice, therefore, would be 
that you never, especially now in your minority, pur- 
chase the smallest article on credit. If it be a mere 
luxury, not strictly speaking needed for your health 
or comfort, you ought not to purchase it at all, even 
if you had the money in your pocket. But even if it 
be a necessary of life, you ought to postpone the pur- 
chase of it as long as you can, to avoid the payment 
of a double price for it. 



208 EXPENSES. 

The mischiefs arising from the students of our col- 
lege purchasing on credit, and suffering bills against 
them to appear with unexpected accumulation at the 
end of each session, has proved so crying an evil, and 
has been followed with so many consequences injurious 
to the students themselves, and to their parents, that 
the trustees of the college have repeatedly and strongly 
remonstrated against the practice, and have even gone 
so far as to entreat the parents of their pupils not to 
pay the bills for articles obtained by minors, on credit, 
contrary to the public notice and injunction of the 
college government. Nay, under a deep impression of 
the importance of the subject, the Legislature of the 
state of New Jersey has passed an act, forbidding any 
person in the neighbourhood of the college to give credit 
to any of its students, excepting for articles of absolute 
necessity, and making all such bills, in the case of 
minors, irrecoverable by law. 

Many a young man, as I before said, whose circum- 
stances were straitened, and who found it difficult to 
meet the expenses of his education, has been, notwith- 
standing, in the end, among the most respected and 
beloved of his class, far more so than the most wealthy. 
And this will never fail to be the case with any student 
in whose character the following circumstances unite. 
First, if he be among the first for scholarship. Se- 
condly, if to his accomplishments in this respect he 
add the dignity, polish, and amiableness of a Christian 
gentleman ; and, thirdly, if he make it appear, by all 
his deportment and habits, that he knows how to esti- 
mate at its real value that tinsel importance which 
wealth alone can give. I once knew a young man who 
was the most indigent individual in his class. But he 
was, at the same time, the best scholar, and the most 
amiable, polished, and well-bred gentleman of the 
whole number. The consequence may easily be ima- 
gined. He was felt and acknowledged to be the mas- 
ter spirit of the class. All did him homage. 
lk _ You see, then, how important it is that all orderly 



EXPENSES. 209 

students, and all well-wishers to the college, should 
guard with sacred care against everything approach- 
ing to an infringement of this rule, fortified by a civil 
enactment. It is not only their duty to avoid every- 
thing of this kind on their own account, but also for 
the sake of example, and to co-operate in carrying into 
effect a regulation so vitally important to the comfort 
and prosperity of the college. 

I hope, my dear sons, that, as faithful alumni of the 
institution to which you owe allegiance, and as sincere 
patriots, you wish to act in this whole matter of ex- 
pense, in such a manner as shall tend to promote on 
a large scale, the welfare of your Alma Mater, and 
the great interests of knowledge and order in the com- 
munity. It is easy to see that everything which 
tends to increase expense in the college must exert an 
unhappy influence in a variety of ways. Wealthy pa- 
rents do not consider as they ought, that when their 
sons indulge in expensive dress, and appear able, from 
day to day, to gratify their taste by larger expenditure 
than the most of their companions in study can afford, 
they excite uncomfortable feelings in the minds of 
some less liberally supplied than themselves ; they 
tempt others, who have not the means, to endeavour to 
vie with them in appearance and expenditure ; they 
render the college a less eligible and pleasant place 
for indigent students ; and perhaps, prevent some of 
this character from ever becoming members of the 
institution. In this way it is that by every violation 
of wise rules and principles, the great interests of 
knowledge and order in the whole community are 
seriously injured. 

I take for granted that some of these considerations 
will appear altogether too refined and abstract to have 
any weight on the minds of many of your fellow stu- 
dents. Each one will be ready to say — "Am I my 
brother's keeper ? It is enough for every one to take 
care of his own claims and interests." Is this the 
language or the spirit of dutiful sons, when weighing 
18* 



210 EXPENSES. 

the claims and the interests of their beloved Alma 
Mater ? Is this the language or spirit of young patriots, 
who consider it as a privilege and an honour, as well 
as a duty, to promote the great cause of knowledge 
and virtue in every department of the community ? I 
can only say, if there be any who feel thus and speak 
thus, they manifest a narrowness of view, and a 
miserable selfishness, of which a rational and accounta- 
ble creature, and especially one in a course of liberal 
education, and training for the duties and responsibili- 
ties of public life ought to be ashamed. 

The situation of your father, of course, renders it im- 
possible for you to think of emulating the expensive 
indulgences of some of your companions in study. I 
trust, my dear sons, this circumstance will not give rise to 
one moment's pain, nor lead you to feel as if they were, 
on this account, your superiors. If it has imposed upon 
you some salutary restraints; if it has excited you to more 
diligence in study, and more unwearied efforts to cul- 
tivate, enlarge, and strengthen your own minds — you 
have rather reason to rejoice than to mourn that your 
father is not a rich man. Never give way to the 
thought that money makes the man ; or that mammon 
can be weighed in the scale against scholarship and 
virtue. What though you wear less expensive garments, 
and have less money to waste on injurious indulgences 
than some of your classmates ? If you stand at the 
head of your associates in literary and scientific 
attainments, and maintain that high reputation as 
young gentlemen of integrity, urbanity, and honour 
to which I trust you will ever aspire, you may rely on 
it that the son of the proudest nabob, if he have no 
other distinction than that which his wealth gives 
him, will feel himself an inferior in your presence. 



LETTER XIX. 
ALMA MATER. 

Jubemus te salvere, Mater! — Plautus. 

My Dear Sons — You are aware that the technical 
title which the dutiful and grateful son of a college 
gives to his literary parent, is Alma Mater. The 
word alma primarily conveys the idea of cherishing or 
nourishing, but it may also be considered as signifying 
holy, fair, benign, pure. And I take for granted that 
every alumnus of such an institution, who has acted 
the part of a dutiful son while under her care, and who 
has received from her that faithful and affectionate 
training which is never withheld from the docile and 
the reverential pupil, will be ever ready to say of his 
literary parent, with all the delightful emotions of 
filial respect and gratitude — " Alma Mater I Sit sem- 
per florens, semper honoratissima, semper beata!" 

It is a maxim in common life, that when any young 
man manifests no respect for his mother, the conclusion 
is irresistible ; — either that she is unworthy, or that he 
is a brute. If this is always the case with a mother 
according to the flesh, the maxim holds, with equal 
uniformity, and with equal force, in regard to a literary 
parent. Whenever you meet with an alumnus of a 
college who manifests no affection, no respect for the 
institution in which he has been trained, you may 
generally take for granted, without inquiring further, 
that he is an unworthy son, who during his connection 
w T ith her, acted so undutiful a part as to embitter all 
his own recollections of that connection ; and to leave 

(211) 



212 ALMA MATER. 

no impression on her mind which she can remember 
but with pain. 

The duties which a faithful son owes to a worthy 
mother are so many, and at the same time so obvious, 
that it may seem unnecessary to recount them. Yet 
as the duties due to literal mothers, plain and indubi- 
table as they are, are too often forgotten and neglected 
by unworthy children according to the flesh ; so the 
obligations by which educated young men are bound to 
their literary mothers are so seldom duly recognized or 
faithfully discharged, that a brief allusion to some of 
them is by no means a superfluous task. 

1. The first duty which every alumnus of a college 
owes to his Alma Mater is to recognize his obligation 
to her, and to cherish those sentiments of respect, 
veneration, and gratitude, to which she is entitled at 
his hands. This obligation is real and deep, and ought 
ever to be remembered and acknowledged. Every 
young man who has passed, or is passing through a 
course of study in a literary institution, who has been 
faithfully instructed, and made the subject of whole- 
some parental discipline, is deeply indebted to that 
institution, and ought to cherish a strong and perma- 
nent impression of his debt. What though he may be 
able to see faults in his literary mother ? What though 
some parts of her discipline may have been painful to 
him ? Yet his obligation is not thereby destroyed, or 
even impaired. The probability is, that he, and not 
the college, was to blame for every penalty that fell 
upon him, for every frown which she manifested toward 
him ; nay, that every act of severity which gave him 
temporary pain, and of which he may be sometimes 
ready to make complaint, was demanded by fidelity to 
his best interest, and, instead of diminishing, does but 
increase his obligation. 

I hope, then, my dear sons, that wherever you may 
sojourn or settle in future life, in the exercise of a true 
filial spirit, you will cherish a strong and lively sense 
of obligation to your Alma Mater. Whatever may be 



ALMA MATER. 213 

said of her defects, she has been a faithful mother to 
you. For every frown you may have received from 
her, for every rod of correction she may have inflicted 
upon you, instead of being offended, you ought to feel 
more deeply her debtors. And this debt, it will be 
equally pleasant to her, and honourable to yourselves, 
ever to bear in mind, and gratefully to acknowledge as 
long as you live. Whenever I find a student greatly 
attached to the college in which he is pursuing his 
studies, or after he has left it, cherishing a strong filial 
spirit toward it, I involuntarily adopt conclusions 
favourable to his character as a son. I take for granted 
that he has been a dutiful, diligent, and orderly student ; 
that his connection with his Alma Mater was creditable 
to himself, as well as pleasant to her ; and that every 
word he utters in her favour ought to be considered as 
redounding to his own honour. 

2. If you are thus indebted to your Alma 3fater 9 
ought you not to abhor the thought of destroying her 
property, or doing anything that can possibly tend to 
her injury ? The most wonderful infatuation concern- 
ing this point seems to possess the minds of many 
members of our colleges. When they become dissatis- 
fied on any account with their instructors, one of the 
first things they think of is to wreak their vengeance 
on some portion of the college property ; to destroy or 
deface some part of the public edifices, or their furni- 
ture. This, they imagine, will most effectually spite 
and mortify the faculty, the object of their resentment. 
But there never was a more miserable misapprehension, 
or a more fiend-like and malignant spirit. The pro- 
perty of the institution is all vested in the board of 
trustees, the legal curators of all her interests. Of 
course, when injury is done to any of these interests, 
it falls, not on the faculty, but on the college ; impair- 
ing her strength, diminishing her power of doing good, 
and of course rendering her, so far as the injury goes, 
less "of a blessing to the community. 

What would be thought of a young man, who, when 



214 ALMA MATEIl. 

his literal mother, after a long course of labour and 
toil for his benefit, had reproved him for some gross 
fault, should wreak his vengeance on her dwelling and 
furniture, destroying or defacing everything within his 
reach ; thus doing all in his power to vex and injure 
her whom he was bound upon every principle to honour 
and cherish ? He would be pronounced an ungrateful, 
infatuated demon, setting at defiance, at once, every 
dictate of reason, duty, self-interest, and self-respect, 
for the gratification of a blind and brutal passion. 

Equally infatuated and demon-like is that student, 
w T ho, when by his own folly and wickedness he has sub- 
jected himself to merited and most righteous discipline, 
undertakes to resent it, and to give expression to his 
anger, not by assailing the persons of those who have 
offended him, which he knows would subject him to 
still heavier discipline, but by attacking the property of 
the institution, by subjecting to serious loss those from 
whom he has never received anything but benefits. 

Still less apology than even for these, can be made 
for those who, without any provocation, are in the 
habit, from mere wantonness, of cutting and otherwise 
defacing the benches, doors, window-frames, fences, 
&c, of the college, rendering them odious in their ap- 
pearance, and, in many cases, altogether unfit for use. 
Is this the conduct which becomes dutiful children, 
who know that to injure their mother is to injure 
themselves ? Ever remember, my dear sons, not only 
that the property of the college is not yours but hers, 
and, of course, that you have no right to injure it in 
the least degree ; but that your right to injure it is 
even less than if you were its rightful owner. If it 
were your own, you might, indeed, do as you pleased 
with it ; but as it is not your own, you ought to exer- 
cise a far more scrupulous care not to injure it than if 
it were. But even more than this ; it belongs to a 
moral parent, to whom you are deeply indebted, and 
whom to injure is even more unreasonable and more 
criminal than if you stood to her in no such relation. 



ALMA MATER. 215 

3. Another duty which you now owe, and will ever 
owe to your Alma Mater, is to be jealous, and scru- 
pulously careful of her good name and honour. If the 
sons of a great literary parent are not jealous of her 
reputation, and do not stand forth as the advocates of 
her fame, who can be expected to do it? Let no 
alumnus say of his Alma Mater that he cannot con- 
scientiously praise her ; that she is far from being what 
he could wish. To whom does it belong to try to im- 
prove her condition, and raise her character, but to 
her sons ? To withhold their praise, when they have 
not done all in their power to render her worthy of it, 
is as ignoble as it is unjust. This consideration leads 
me to say, 

4. That you are bound to study and endeavour, to 
the end of life, to do all in your power to elevate, 
strengthen, enrich, and adorn your Alma Mater in all 
her interests. In this respect it is certain that the 
habits of our ancestors were far more favourable to 
literature than those of the present day. Several cen- 
turies ago, it was common for eminent and wealthy 
men in the old world to exercise splendid munificence 
toward the seminaries of learning in which they were 
trained, or which became, on any ground, objects of 
their favour. They erected large and splendid edifices 
for libraries and halls ; gave ample endowments for 
their support ; founded professorships and scholarships ; 
established bursaries and premiums for the encourage- 
ment of pupils ; and in various ways contributed to 
extend, strengthen and adorn the nurseries of know- 
ledge. Almost all the principal buildings, and most 
sumptuous foundations in the universities of the old 
world, and especially of Great Britain, were established, 
not by the universities themselves, out of their own 
funds, but by munificent individuals, many of whom 
have by this laudable liberality transmitted their 
names with honour to posterity. Nor has this praise- 
worthy practice been unknown in our own country. 
The friends of Harvard University in Massachusetts, 



216 ALMA MATER. 

have set the noblest example of this kind hitherto pre- 
sented on this side of the Atlantic. The names of 
Harvard, and Hollis, and Hancock, and Hersey, and 
Erving, to say nothing of several still more munificent 
later patrons, are all worthy of honourable commemo- 
ration. It is to be lamented that this species of 
liberality has been, in a great measure, confined to the 
single state of Massachusetts. For although a few 
cases have occurred, both in the West and the South, 
of large endowments to literary institutions, yet they 
have been indeed "few and far between;" whereas 
they have occurred in the State just mentioned with a 
remarkable frequency, which indicated a state of public 
sentiment altogether peculiar. Besides the benefactors 
to Harvard University already mentioned, the names 
of Bartlet, and Norris, and Phillips, and Farrar, will 
remind you of men who, by their princely munificence, 
have erected monuments of their liberality which will 
be long remembered with honour. 

I am aware, my dear sons, that you are never likely 
to be able to do much in the way of endowments in 
aid of your Alma 3Iater. But if it should please God 
to prosper you in your worldly circumstances, you 
may possibly do something to testify your good will 
and filial regard. And I charge you, if you should 
ever be able, to give her, either during your lives, or 
at your decease, some memorial of your gratitude and 
attachment. If you can do no more, you can probably 
engage some wealthy acquaintances, who have few or 
no children, in making a testamentary disposition of 
their property, to make your college, at least in part, 
their legatee. And perhaps you yourselves, without 
doing wrong to any survivor, may leave to her, if it be 
but a hundred or two dollars, as an humble testimonial 
of grateful regard. If even this were done by all her 
alumni who are able to afford it, the amount would, in 
a few years, invest her with a degree of enlargement 
and strength greatly conducive to her comfort and 
usefulness. 



ALMA MATER. 217 

No longer ago than last year an alumnus of the 
College of New Jersey, who was graduated with the 
class of 1776, and had filled a number of elevated sta- 
tions in society — left in his last will, as "a testimony 
of attachment to his venerated Alma Mater" one 
hundred volumes of books, to be selected from his 
library by a friend whom he named, and added to the 
library of the college. This was accordingly done ; 
and the legacy was received and acknowledged with 
marked pleasure by the board of trustees. Why is 
not something of this kind done more frequently ? If 
every son of the college, who has it in his power, were 
to do likewise, (and some could, without inconvenience, 
do much more,) the library of our college would, in a 
few years, become enlarged to a degree greatly grati- 
fying to all her friends. 

The truth is, if all the friends of our college were 
cordially desirous, and really on the watch, to promote 
* her welfare, they might, with very little effort, accom- 
plish for her an amount of benefit beyond calculation. 
One, for example, may send to her library, from his 
own collection, a set of books, or a single volume of 
rare or curious character. A second, who, in the 
course of his travels, meets with one or more volumes 
of great rarity or value, may easily prevail on the 
owner to present them to the college. A third, at an 
expense of seven or eight hundred dollars, may estab- 
lish a fund which shall produce forty or fifty dollars 
annually to be applied as a premium for ever, and 
paid to the best classical or mathematical scholar in 
each class that is graduated. A fourth, who cannot 
do it himself, may prevail on some acquaintance of 
larger means, to erect a spacious fire-proof library, 
which has long been greatly wanted ; or a convenient, 
ornamental chapel, which is equally needed, and which 
might bear the name of the donor for ever. A fifth, 
who is fond of some particular science taught in the 
institution, may be willing to make a large addition to 
the chemical apparatus, or to present a first-rate tele- 
J.t/ 



218 ALMA MATER. 

scope, to aid in the study of Astronomy. Why — 
why is it that the public spirit, the zeal for the promo- 
tion of knowledge which operated so strongly in the 
minds of our fathers, and produced such honourable 
results, have so far deserted our country, or at any 
rate these middle states ? I hope, my dear sons, you 
will do all in your power to revive and extend them, 
and try to stimulate every high-minded alumnus to 
become a benefactor, in some way, to his beloved 
literary mother. 

The fact is, every alumnus of a college who travels 
into foreign countries, might, not only without sacri- 
fice, but with cordial gratification to his honourable 
feelings, pick up in a hundred places, and bring home 
with him, specimens of Natural History, models of 
Engines and Edifices, Casts, Statues, Paintings, Mine- 
rals, Coins, Manuscripts, &c, which might be depo- 
sited on her shelves, to the great increase of her repu- 
tation, and to the enlargement of her means of promot- 
ing the improvement of her pupils. 



LETTER XX. 

PARENTS. 

" Indulgentia inepta parentum." — Anon. 

My Dear Sons — You may feel some surprise that 
a letter with such a title should be addressed to you. 
But I should consider this manual as essentially de- 
fective, were it not to contain some notice of the bear- 
ing of parental influence on the character and conduct 
of many young men in college. Your own reflections 
will convince you that this influence is not small, and 
that it is often far from being happy. It is my wish, 
therefore, to take this indirect method of reaching the 
consciences and the hearts of those parents who, per- 
haps, do more to lead their sons astray than they them- 
selves ever imagined ; and whose mischievous influence 
none but themselves can ever fully correct. For my 
part, I believe that, in nine cases out of ten, the bad 
conduct of the young is referable to their parents. 

And I begin by remarking, that many parents are 
so negligent or so unskilful in the original training of 
their children — if training it may be called — that they 
can hardly fail to become disorderly members of so- 
ciety, and to prove a perfect nuisance wherever they 
go. Where children are suffered to grow up without 
restraint, in the indulgence of every wild freak, and 
wayward temper ; nay, where they are permitted to be 
the governors of their parents, rather than compelled 
to submit to their authority, what can be expected of 
such children, as they advance in age and in stature, 
but self-will, turbulence, and every species of revolting 

(219) 



220 PARENTS. 

insubordination? Would it not be something like a 
miracle, if children thus abandoned to their own cor- 
rupt inclinations, should prove otherwise than disor- 
derly and troublesome whenever they attempted to 
mingle with decent people ? The very element of 
youth thus brought up, may be expected to be insubor- 
dination, profaneness, self-indulgence in every form, 
forgetfulness of truth, and a disregard to the rights 
and the comfort of others. 

Many such young men are sent to college, and there 
they expect to govern, as they had done at home. 
There, when not permitted to have their own way in 
everything, and even to invade the rights of others 
with impunity, they think themselves hardly and op- 
pressively treated. Nor is a mistake on this subject 
theirs alone. Their parents are apt to participate in 
it. And, therefore, when they hear that their sons 
have drawn upon themselves the discipline of the col- 
lege, or been sent away from it, they are filled with 
surprise, and conclude that the faculty must, of course, 
be to blame. Strange infatuation ! Surely the blind- 
ness of parental partiality is beyond all bounds ! When 
children are not taught at home to honour and obey 
their parents ; to love and observe domestic order ; to 
regard the truth ; to avoid profane language ; to pay 
respect to the feelings of others, w r hat can be expected 
when they leave home, and are, of course, removed 
from the eye of their immediate connections ? Can 
there be any rational hope that they will be found 
comfortable or respectable members of any literary 
institution to which they may be sent ? As well might 
we expect to " gather grapes of thorns, or figs of this- 
tles." It will be well, indeed, if those who have been 
taught and trained in the best manner, shall carry with 
them to the academy and the college, the sentiments 
and habits which have been inculcated upon them. 
But where the parental mansion has never resounded 
w r ith the voice of prayer and praise ; where no father's 
or mother's affection has ever impressed upon their 



PARENTS. 221 

minds, the duty of obedience to the laws under which 
they are placed ; of reverence for God, for the Bible, 
for the Lord's day, and for everything sacred ; and of 
benevolent regard to the feelings of others, we cannot 
reasonably hope for anything, from such young peo- 
ple, but insubordination and every evil work. If the 
result be different, every one who contemplates the 
circumstance, regards it as a matter of wonder and 
congratulation. 

We are told of an ancient Grecian sage, that, when 
he saw any young person behaving ill in the street, or 
in any public place, he immediately went to the house 
of his parents, and corrected them, as the probable 
cause of their son's delinquency. The conclusion was 
wise, and the course taken, rational. When I see a 
young man noisy, insolent, swaggering, profane, coarse 
in his manners, and disrespectful to his superiors — I 
pity him ; I spontaneously say within myself—" poor 
lad ! he has had a wretched bringing up ; he knows no 
better;" his parents have either known no better 
themselves, or they have had neither the principle nor 
the skill to lead him in the right way ; and hence he 
has grown up "like a wild ass's colt." I verily be- 
lieve that nine-tenths of all the disobedience to law, 
and all the consequent disorders in colleges, are to be 
traced to the unhappy delinquencies of parents ; and 
that no effectual cure of the evil can be expected, but 
through the medium of parental reformation. Oh, if 
fathers and mothers — even the most worldly of them — 
had a just sense of what their sons need in going forth 
to complete their education ; if they made a just esti- 
mate of what true politeness is — that it does not con- 
sist in fine clothes — -in graceful movements, or in a 
haughty strut and air ; but in a deportment at once 
respectful, benevolent, and adapted to make all around 
us happy ; what a different aspect would all our social 
circles, and all our literary institutions present ! Pa- 
rents certainly impose a heavy and most unreasonable 
task on college officers, when they expect them to 
19* 



222 PARENTS. 

make scholars and gentlemen of stupid asses, head- 
strong rebels, and miserable boors, whom they found 
it impossible either to instruct or govern at home. 

But this is not the whole of the evil which hows 
from parental delinquency. Parents not only send to 
college young men without any of the qualities which 
fit them to be either wholesome or comfortable mem- 
bers of a literary institution ; without either the de- 
corum or the docility which prepare them to be suc- 
cessful or even tolerable students ; but they too often 
set themselves against the efforts of the faculty, by 
faithful instruction and discipline, to correct the faults 
and better the character of their children. It would 
be distressing to recount the instances in which parents 
have become grievously offended at measures of the 
most wise and indispensable kind to promote the wel- 
fare of their sons. I have known many cases in 
which, instead of feeling grateful to the authority of 
college, for frowning on the gross disorders of their 
sons, and inflicting the lightest discipline that could be 
thought of for their offences, they have taken the part 
of their sons against the authority ; considered them 
as hardly dealt with ; and encouraged them to resist 
the discipline to which they were subjected. The in- 
jury done to young men by this conduct on the part 
of their parents cannot be calculated. How is it pos- 
sible to conduct discipline with success, when it is thus 
resisted and reviled by those who ought zealously to 
sustain it ? What encouragement have the officers of 
such institutions to labour and toil for the benefit of 
youth, when those who ought to be most grateful to 
them for their painful efforts, turn against them, and 
strengthen the hands of their rebellious children ? 

I must say, my dear sons, that in the course of a 
long life, I have no recollection of having ever known 
an instance in which a member of college appeared to 
me to have been visited with more severe discipline 
than he deserved. My impression is, that where there 
is an error in regard to this matter, it is almost always 



PARENTS. 223 

the other way. And, therefore, I give you fair warn- 
ing beforehand, that if (what I hope will never hap- 
pen) you should fall under the lash of college authority, 
you must not expect me to interpose and rescue you 
from it. I shall take for granted, anterior to all in- 
quiry on the subject, that you richly deserve all you 
get and more. 

An example of noble bearing on this subject once 
occurred in Princeton, which I cannot forbear to re- 
late, as affording a specimen of what ought much more 
frequently to be exhibited than we find to be the case. 

General C , a highly respectable inhabitant of a 

neighbouring city, who had himself had two sons edu- 
cated in our college, and who was, therefore, well 
acquainted with the institution, happened, some years 
ago, to be passing through Princeton on the very day 
in which two students of the college had been sus- 
pended and ordered to go home, on account of their 
disorderly conduct. They came into the hotel, where 
the General had stopped to refresh himself, and were 
complaining of the treatment which they had received 
from the faculty of the college, in a loud manner, and 
with much foul language. He, at first, was silent ; 
but their vehement complaints being continued, and 
after a while appearing to be partly addressed to him- 
self — he looked at them with a stern countenance, 
and said — " Young men, I know nothing of you or 
your case : but I have long known the Faculty of New 
Jersey College, and know them to be scholars and gen- 
tlemen. I am sure, from your present behaviour, they 
are in the right, and you in the wrong ; and if you 
were my sons, I would drive you back, with a good 
cowskin, to the presence of the faculty, and compel 
you to ask their pardon on your knees. " Though the 
culprits did not know him, yet his age, his command- 
ing figure, and his air of superiority prevented their 
giving way to resentment. But it is hardly necessary 
to say, that they slunk out of the apartment abashed 
and silent. 



224 PARENTS. 

It is earnestly to be wished, that public sentiment 
generally, and especially the sentiments and conduct 
of the leading members of society, might always be 
found speaking the same language/and taking the part 
of rightful authority, against juvenile insubordination 
and insolence. But, alas ! this is so far from being the 
case that, perhaps, no complaint is better founded than 
that which mourns over the prevalence of an opposite 
course. 

The following remarks by the venerable Bishop 
Meade, extracted from a publication from his pen 
noticed in a former letter, are worthy of being so- 
lemnly regarded by every parent. " On this subject, 
let me say one word to parents, in behalf of the schools 
and colleges in our land. Heavy, indeed, are the com- 
plaints of teachers and professors against you in this 
respect. I hear them wherever I go. You are consider- 
ed as the great obstacles to the right government of youth 
in our literary institutions of every grade. Those who 
have charge of your children declare, that you withhold 
your support from them in the most trying emergency ; 
that your blind partiality to your sons leads you to receive 
any statement they may make, or your false views of dis- 
cipline lead you to palliate, if you do not justify, conduct 
which is perfectly inadmissible in any well ordered in- 
stitution. They declare, that it seldom happens that a 
youth is dismissed, without finding in the parent one to 
justify him, and condemn them." 

There is yet another way in which parents are found 
not only to injure their sons in college, but also to 
inflict a serious injury on the character and all the best 
interests of the institution with which they are con- 
nected. I mean by supplying them profusely with 
money, from time to time, and thus enabling them to 
gratify their appetites, and tempting them to indulge 
in freaks of wild disorder, and of mischievous expendi- 
ture. This infatuation on the part of the parents, 
has proved a source of wider and more irreparable 
mischief than I could easily detail. I am very sure 



PARENTS. 225 

that if parents who have either any reflection or any 
principle, could be made to understand how deeply 
such profusion on their part is adapted to injure their 
sons, and to injure the college, they would no more 
think of indulging it, than they would the thought of 
sending to their beloved children, every month, the 
most virulent poison to be mingled with their daily 
food. 

It is deeply to be deplored that there are, around 
our colleges, so many persons ready to be mean and 
criminal purveyors to the appetites of the students ; 
who, in defiance of all the laws of the state, and of 
the authority of the institutions themselves; nay, in 
defiance of all the dictates of their own ultimate interest, 
spread snares for their feet, and lead them on, in many 
cases, to the breaking up of all their sober habits, and 
ultimately to their eternal destruction. But the most 
astonishing and humbling fact of all is, that parents — 
who have the deepest interest in the welfare of their 
children, and who might be expected to feel for the well- 
being of the children of others — cannot be persuaded to 
frown on those unprincipled conspirators against youth, 
and to try and make them feel, in the only way in 
which they seem capable of feeling — I mean in their 
pockets — that they are engaged in a nefarious traffic 
which cannot ultimately profit them. 



LETTER XXI. 



VACATIONS. 



Ne mihi otium quidem fuit unquam otiosum. — Cicero. 
Simul et jucunda et idonea vitas. — Anon. 



My Dear Sons — I know of few things more 
adapted to draw a distinct and visible line between a 
wise student and a foolish one, than the occurrence of 
a vacation. To the latter, who is too commonly a 
mere terrce filius — who has no love to knowledge — who 
only consented to become a member of a literary in- 
stitution from mere boyish vanity, or to comply with 
the wishes of his parents ; who desires to enjoy the 
name of a student, without his toil or his attainments ; 
to him the occurrence of a vacation is the most wel- 
come of all events. He is delighted to escape from 
study. He is no less gratified, perhaps, to escape from 
the control and decorum which the supervision of the 
faculty imposes upon him, and rejoices in the prospect 
of being able to give himself up, for five or six weeks, 
to every kind of dissipation that his heart may desire. 

Very different from these are the feelings with 
which a wise and exemplary student contemplates the 
approach of a recess from study. He rejoices in it, 
indeed, but not as a period of escape from painful re- 
straint, for he feels none : — not as a season of relief 
(226) 



VACATIONS. 227 

from study ; for he loves knowledge, and considers it 
as a privilege to receive it from the hands of his 
regular instructors. He looks forward to such an 
event, however, with real pleasure, as affording him an 
opportunity to see his friends, and to gratify filial and 
fraternal affection ; to promote his health by an abund- 
ance of wholesome exercise ; and also to enjoy the 
privilege of attending to some branches of literary 
culture which his prescribed tasks may have prevented 
him from enjoying. For these reasons he looks for- 
ward to it with calm and rational pleasure. He takes 
a temporary leave of the w T alls of his Alma Mater 
with the decorum and dignity of a gentleman, who re- 
spects her, and at the same time respects himself. In 
travelling to the place of his residence, he is not seen 
associating with the noisy, the vulgar, and the vile ; 
he is not heard uttering the language of profaneness 
and brutality, so as to excite the wonder of every 
decent beholder, where such a young cub could have 
received his training. 

From the foregoing statement you will easily per- 
ceive how your father would wish you to meet and to 
spend your vacations. You will, of course, anticipate 
them with pleasure. And you will, I hope, contem- 
plate them very much as every wise man regards re- 
laxation from the severer duties of life, as means of 
refreshment and strength, and of preparation for re- 
turning to those duties with renewed alacrity and plea- 
sure. The idea of making a vacation a season of 
mere vacuity, or of lawless riot, is too ignoble, I trust, 
to be entertained for a moment by you. You will, I 
hope, look forward to such a recess as a season of 
much value, which ought to be carefully improved, and 
always rendered subservient to some valuable acqui- 
sition. • 

We are told of the celebrated Sir William Jones, 
that eminent philologist, and master of juridical and 
oriental learning, that, in his youth, he was in the habit 
of paying an annual, and sometimes a more frequent 



228 VACATIONS. 

visit, of several weeks to London. As that city was 
his native place, and as he had, of course, from that 
circumstance, and from the respectability of his cha- 
racter, a large circle of acquaintance there, and was 
every hour surrounded with scenes of luxury and en- 
tertainment, it might have been expected that his visits 
would have been all devoted to company and amuse- 
ment. But this amiable and highly cultivated youth 
was of " another spirit." His impression of the value 
of knowledge and of time was too deep to allow him 
thus to employ even a few weeks of recess from pre- 
scribed study. He generally, we are told, made each 
visit to the city subservient to the acquisition of a new 
language. Why may not you, my dear sons, assign to 
every vacation which occurs in your college course, the 
execution of some task which may be of solid use to 
you as long as you live ? For example ; when a re- 
cess of five or six weeks occurs in the spring, suppose 
you were to resolve to devote the vacant hours which 
occur durino; that time to a careful and thorough 
perusal of Milton's Paradise Lost, and Paradise Re- 
gained ; and for that purpose, to take the volumes with 
you wherever you went, and to study them with that 
closeness of attention which becomes those who are de- 
sirous of being familiar with works of which it is dis- 
graceful to any English scholar to be ignorant. In 
the vacation of similar extent in the autumn, you may 
peruse with like attention and profit, the eight volumes 
of the Spectator, in the pages of which Addison, Steele, 
and others, who adorned the Augustan age of English 
literature, made so distinguished a figure. In the va- 
cation of the following spring, let your leisure hours 
be employed in reading with attention, some of the 
best parts of Shakspeare's dramas. I say the best 
parts ; for I would not recommend the indiscriminate 
study of all that goes under the name of that great 
writer. It is doubtful, as you probably know, whether 
some of the plays bound up with his works, are really 
his j and with regard to some others, confidently con- 



VACATIONS. 229 

sidered as genuine, they can by no means be recom- 
mended as likely to improve either the literary taste 
or the moral sentiments of those who peruse them. 
Let your special attention be directed to his Macbeth ; 
his Richard II. ; his Henry IV. ; Henry V., and 
Henry VI. ; his Richard III. ; his Henry VIII. ; his 
King Lear ; his Romeo and Juliet ; his Hamlet ; and 
his Othello. With these I "would advise you to 
stop ; and these, if read as they ought to be, will be 
more than sufficient to occupy the disposable hours of 
one vacation. Let the next season of a similar kind 
be devoted to the perusal of Pope's works ; the next 
to Johnson's Lives of the Poets ; and so, in succession, 
to the other works of Johnson, and to those of Thom- 
son, Goldsmith, Cowper, Beattie, &c, as opportunity 
may present. If to these you could find time to add 
Robertson's History of Charles V., Hume's History of 
England, Hallam's Middle Ages, and the same writer's 
Constitutional History of England, you would find 
yourselves greatly profited by the series. How much 
better to have a system of this sort, than to be at a 
loss, as many are, during the hours of vacation, how 
to kill the time ; often in perfect ennui, or, perhaps, 
running over the columns of a newspaper of last year, 
or of an old almanac, for the sake of guarding against 
utter vacuity ! If this plan, or anything like it, were 
faithfully persevered in, every student in college, before 
his regular course was closed, would be familiar with 
the best masters of sentiment, of diction, and of 
knowledge that the English language affords. 

But perhaps some of your vacations may be spent 
entirely in travelling. Where this can be done, it 
may be made not only one of the most interesting, but 
also one of the most profitable modes of spending a 
few weeks of recess from regular study. Even then, 
you may take some classical English volumes with 
you, and turn the perusal of them to excellent account 
in the leisure hours which occur in all journeying. 
20 



280 VACATIONS. 

But aside from the opportunities of reading which sel- 
dom fail to occur in steamboats, and other vehicles of 
public conveyance, you ought to remember, that even 
when you are shut out from these avenues to know- 
ledge, there are others open to you, even by the very 
circumstances which preclude reading. This is com- 
monly prevented by the crowd of company in which 
we are placed. But is there nothing to be gained by 
a vigilant and wise use of this very company as a 
source of information ? 

I know, indeed, that reckless young men, intent only 
on animal gratification, are apt to pass from place to 
place, when they are travelling, and from one crowded 
public vehicle to another, without an effort, or even a 
thought of adding to their stock of knowledge. Where- 
as, a young man desirous of learning something from 
every place which he visits, of gleaning instruction from 
every company into which he is thrown, will be ever 
on the watch to make the most of every scene through 
w T hich he passes. He will try to inform himself, even 
in his most cursory journeyings, of the history, char- 
acter, and peculiarities of the canals, railroads and 
turnpikes over which he is borne. He will mark and 
record the agricultural, the commercial and the manu- 
facturing conditions of every district which he has an 
opportunity of seeing. He will note well all the in- 
ternal improvements, the literary, moral, and religious 
state of every neighbourhood; the numbers, relative 
strength, prospects, and wants of the different ecclesi- 
astical denominations, and particularly any institutions 
or practices which may be worthy of imitation. Such 
a wise youth, in travelling, will always, of course, keep 
a diary ; and if his observation and his notes be such 
as they ought to be, he will return from every journey 
with an amount of new information, richer and more 
vividly impressed on the mind than he could possibly 
gain from books. 

Not only so ; but in every such journey an atten- 
tive traveller, who is on the watch for incidents and* 



VACATIONS. 231 

sources of improvement, will, of course, fall in with 
companions in travel, from whom he may learn much 
which books would never teach him. He will, proba- 
bly, seldom enter a crowded public vehicle without meet- , 
ing with one and another who have visited remote parts 
of the world, and from whom he might derive infor- 
mation, imparted with all the impressiveness which the 
living speaker, and the animated countenance can alone 
confer. In such circumstances, in almost every jour- 
ney, a young traveller, if awake to the opportunities of 
instruction, may collect an amount of information con- 
cerning foreign countries — concerning Rome or Athens, 
concerning Palestine and Jerusalem, concerning Egypt, 
and Cairo, and the Pyramids, &c. — for which he would 
look in vain in any printed volume. Why is it that so 
few young men, who have life before them ; who might 
be benefited as well as adorned by such information ; 
and who might gather up by handfuls instructive facts 
concerning every part of the world, are so little awake 
to the value of the privilege, and so little disposed to 
avail themselves of the advantages which it offers ? It 
is evident that in this way the travels of others may be 
made substantially their own. 

Thus you see, my dear sons, that wherever you may 
spend your vacations — whether at home, or in journey- 
ing ; whether among friends or strangers, it will be 
your own fault if you do not make them truly and 
richly profitable. Surely to have an opportunity of 
reading valuable works which could not be read during 
term-time ; or to visit different parts of the country ; 
or to see more of the world ; or to converse with dif- 
ferent classes of men — are advantages which will be 
lightly esteemed by none, w T ho have minds capable of 
making the estimate. 

When, therefore, I see a student reckless of all these 
advantages, the moment a vacation begins, trying to 
escape from all reading, as having had too much of it 
in term-time ; flying from the company of the grave 



232 VACATIONS. 

and the wise, from whom he might learn much, and 
frequenting the haunts of the dissipated and disorderly ; 
everywhere smoking, drinking and racketing with the 
children of folly ; when I see this, I instinctively re- 
gard such a young man as "void of understanding ;" 
lost to himself and his friends ; and as much more 
likely to prove a disgrace than an honour to the place 
of his education. 



LETTER XXII. 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS— CONCLUSION. 



Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter ; fear God, 
and keep his commandments ; for this is the whole duty of 
man. — Eccles. xii. 13. 



My Dear Sons— I have now touched as briefly, 
and yet as pointedly as I know how, on the leading 
topics which appear to me to be peculiarly interest- 
ing to you as students in college. I would fain hope 
that I have gained your assent to every successive re- 
mark as I went along. But of one thing I am confi- 
dent, that you will give me credit for having uttered 
my sincere and unbiassed convictions in all that I have 
said. You cannot suspect me of a sinister design in 
any one of the counsels which occupy the foregoing 
pages. No, my sons, I have no desire to damp the 
sanguine joy, or cloud the smiling sun of your youth. 
I would not take from you a single rational pleasure. 
On the contrary, I delight to see you happy ; and de- 
sire, by all the means in my power, to promote your 
true enjoyment and honour. But you must allow me 
now, in my advanced life, when I have seen so much 
of the illusions of the world, and so many examples of 
the destruction of those who yielded to them, to coun- 
sel you, not in the style of youthful flattery, but in the 
language of " truth and soberness." I have not at- 
tempted to carry a point with you by overpainting, or 
by any other artifice. If you have a real disinterested 
friend on earth, who unfeignedly wishes to promote 
20* (233) 



234 CONCLUSION. 

your interests in both worlds, it is he who has penned 
the foregoing letters. And in publishing them for the 
benefit of others, I have endeavoured to put myself, in 
thought, in the place of the parents and guardians of 
all your fellow students, and to speak to them all as 
my own beloved children. I have not given a counsel 
or an injunction but what I conscientiously believe, if 
followed, will be for your benefit, as a candidate for 
success and happiness in this world, as well as an im- 
mortal being. Nay, I have not given a counsel but 
what I am verily persuaded your own judgment will 
sanction, twenty years hence, if you should live so long, 
and which, if you neglect it, will be matter of bitter 
self-reproach to you to the end of life. 

I have been young, my dear sons, and now am old. 
I have been, as you know, a member of a college, as 
you now are ; and, of course, I know something of the 
habits, the follies, the prejudices, the snares and dan- 
gers with which you are surrounded. Now, when I 
have laid open my whole heart to you concerning these 
matters, and have told you, with all the conscientious- 
ness of truth, and with all the tenderness of parental 
affection, how these things appear to me in the decline 
of life, and in view of my final account, will you not 
listen to me ? 

Perhaps, in the fulness of your filial feelings, you 
may be ready, after reading what has been written, to 
say — "All these counsels &re right ; all these things 
will we do." But, rely upon it, to carry this resolu- 
tion into effect will not be so easy as you imagine. 
The rashness of inexperience ; the impetuosity of 
youthful feeling ; the sudden burst of passion ; the 
folly and violence of companions in study — all — all 
endanger, every day, the overthrow of your discre- 
tion ; and may, in an unexpected hour, as it were, 
spring a mine under your feet, and disconcert, before 
you are aware, all those plans of order which in your 
calmer moments you had adopted, and determined to 
follow. Under these impressions, allow me to close 



CONCLUSION. 235 

this letter, and this whole manual, with a few counsels, 
which a heart most anxious for your welfare, as long 
as it shall continue to beat, will not cease to pray, may 
be deeply impressed upon your minds : and 

1. Be not confident of your own power to do all 
that your judgment tells you is right ; all that you 
have resolved to do, in conformity with the foregoing 
letters. Your feelings are sometimes strong, and in 
an evil hour, may overpower your judgment. Your 
inclinations, never to be implicitly trusted, may run 
counter to your duty and get the victory ; and some 
plausible fellow student, less worthy of respect than 
you have hitherto thought him, may set a trap and 
ensnare you, before you are aware, and may involve 
you in a difficulty from which retreat is not easy. On 
all these accounts, and others too numerous to be spe- 
cified in detail, be not confident that it will be an easy 
thing to adhere to your resolutions, and to perform all 
the duties which your judgment tells you ought to be 
performed, by wise and orderly students. 

2. If you feel your own weakness, and the power 
of temptation in any measure as you ought, you 
will be disposed to look for aid from above, and to 
pray without ceasing for the guidance and strength 
which you need. Whenever any exigency arises which 
requires decision, especially if it involves any question 
of difficulty, be not in haste to act. Pause, reflect, 
and calculate both probable and possible consequences. 
Ask direction from your father's and mother's God. 
And if the path of duty be still doubtful, take that 
course which will be obviously safe, rather than that 
which is adapted to gratify a spirit of vanity and youth- 
ful display. It is the counsel of prudence, as well as 
of holy scripture, " acknowledge God in all your ways, 
and he will direct your steps." 

I should feel, my dear sons, as if I had gained 
much, if I could find you deeply impressed with a 
sense of your danger of being led astray, and of your 
constant need of guidance and aid from above. No- 



236 CONCLUSION. 

thing less, you may rest assured, will suffice for your 
protection. We may speculate, and philosophize, and 
prescribe as much as we please about other remedies 
for the corrupt tendencies and temptations of the 
young ; but they will all be vain. " The strong man 
armed" can never be overcome and cast out, but by 
one stronger than he. We may tell young men, every 
day that we live, of the wisdom and happiness of vir- 
tue. We may demonstrate to them with all the force 
of reasoning, and with all the power of eloquence, that 
the path of temperance, of diligence in study, and of 
undeviating regularity in every respect, is the wisest 
course. We may assure them that it is as much their 
happiness and their honour as it is their duty, to be 
all that their instructors can require or wish. We 
may tell them all this ; and they may fully believe us. 
Nay, they know that it is so. Their judgments and 
their consciences are decisively in favour of it all. But, 
alas ! their hearts are not gained. In spite of all 
that we can say, when passion pleads ; when the syren 
voice of pleasure calls, away they will hasten " as an 
ox goeth to the slaughter.'' The admonitions of con- 
science are either not heard at all, or, if heard, speedily 
silenced by the overflowing tide of youthful feeling. 
Alas ! how many young men, whose sober convictions, 
when consulted, are strongly on the side of what is 
right, have, notwithstanding, from the mere influence 
of appetite and passion, or the impulse of still more 
inflamed and infatuated companions, in an evil hour, 
plunged irretrievably into courses which have de- 
stroyed them, soul and body, for ever ! how con- 
stantly and importunately ought those who are ex- 
posed to such temptations and perils, to implore that 
guardianship which can alone guide them aright ! 

3. Recollect that you are every day forming habits 
and establishing a character, which will probably fol- 
low you through life. The great difficulty of most 
students is, that they " do not consider." They can- 
not be persuaded to lay to heart the importance of 



CONCLUSION. 237 

every day they live, and of every opportunity they 
enjoy. They have but one life to live. The precious 
time which is now passing, and the privileges with 
which they are now favoured, can never return. 0, 
if young men could be induced to " consider their 
ways;" to "look before they leap;" to reflect seri- 
ously before they act ; and to prize as they ought the 
price now put into their hands for getting wisdom ; 
how many of their false steps would be prevented ! 
How many of those deplorable calamities which cloud 
their course, and pain the hearts of parents, would be 
happily averted ! 

4. Think how easy it is, in the outset, to avoid 
being implicated in the disorders of a college, com- 
pared with what it is in the progress of the mischief. 
In the commencement of such disorder, one simple 
rule, like a perfect panacea, will deliver you from all 
embarrassment. That rule is, without any reference 
to its character or its aim, to have no connection with 
it ; to decline attending its meetings ; signing its pa- 
pers, or concurring in its applications. By abstaining, 
kindly and respectfully, but firmly, from all participa- 
tion in the proposed movement, no harm can be done 
in any case : whereas in allowing yourselves to be im- 
plicated in a movement which in the outset may appear 
perfectly innocent, you may be unexpectedly drawn into 
a vortex of disgrace and ruin. What was only in- 
tended to be a piece of harmless merriment, or a 
respectful request, has, perhaps, insensibly grown into 
a combination of infatuated rebels. "Behold how 
great a matter a little fire kindleth !" 

Shall we never have done with scenes of insubordi- 
nation and disorder in our colleges ? Are students in 
our highest literary institutions more unreasonable and 
perverse than other young men ? Are they less ac- 
cessible to ingenuous sentiments ; less open to convic- 
tion from the plainest reasoning; less desirous of hap- 
piness ; less capable of elevated and manly feelings 
than others of their age differently situated ? It can- 



238 CONCLUSION. 

not be. Surely the air of a college cannot, as a matter 
of course, inebriate all who breathe it. Surely the 
■walls of a college cannot blind and stultify all who 
inhabit them. Surely college students, the moment 
they become such, cannot be at once transformed into 
such miserable cowards, or such incorrigible fools, as, 
of course, like a flock of silly sheep, to follow in the 
train of every ruffian blockhead who chooses to leap 
over a precipice, and destroy himself. Why, then, 
does it so often happen, that those young men who, 
under the parental roof, were amiable, ingenuous, and 
docile ; after being advanced to the higher privileges, 
and more enlarged instruction of a college, are so apt 
to become blinded by passion, the sport of childish 
feeling, and more disposed than before to " call evil 
good, and good evil; to put darkness for light, and 
light for darkness ; to put bitter for sweet, and sweet 
for bitter ?" Causa latet, vis est notissima. And yet, 
I know not that the cause is really hidden. The gre- 
garious principle, which, when sanctified, is productive 
of so much good, may become, when perverted, a 
source of incalculable evil. Hence it so often happens 
that associated bodies, in the fervour of their feelings, 
and in the madness of their spasmodic excitements, 
are found to do things of which any individual of their 
whole number would be utterly ashamed. 

Can you, for a moment, doubt, my beloved sons, 
that it is as much your interest as it is your duty, to 
be perfectly exemplary in all your relations to the col- 
lege of which you are members ? Can you doubt that 
it will be for your own happiness and honour to obey 
every law of the institution ; to perform all your pre- 
scribed tasks with diligence and faithfulness ; and to 
treat every one both within and without its walls with 
the urbanity of perfect gentlemen ? I am sure you 
cannot and do not doubt concerning one jot or tittle of 
all this. Why, then, why are these principles really 
and faithfully acted upon by only one in ten or twenty 
of the students of any college in our land ? I could 



CONCLUSION. 239 

sit down and weep when I learn, from day to day, 
from so many channels of public intelligence, and from 
colleges in almost every quarter of our country, of 
masses of students who appear as if their constant and 
supreme study was how they might most effectually 
secure their own disgrace and misery, and render those 
around them also as miserable as possible. 

Cannot young gentlemen, in circumstances so con- 
spicuous and responsible, be persuaded to appreciate 
their own interest? Can they not be prevailed upon, 
if they will not respect others, at least to respect 
themselves ; to respect public opinion, to which they 
look for high honours, and on which they rely for that 
brilliant success which, as a matter of course, they 
anticipate for themselves. Above all, can they not 
be persuaded to respect that high and holy One, whose 
favour is life, and whose loving kindness is better than 
life ? If they consider it as an honourable achievement 
to deceive and overreach the faculty, can they regard 
in a similar light that conduct which degrades them- 
selves, and is a prelude to inevitable shame ? Alas ! 
for the infatuation of young men who can glory in 
their own dishonour, and boast of intellectual and 
moral suicide ! 

When I compare what young men might gain in 
college, with what they usually do gain, the contrast 
is most humiliating. Instead of striving to enrich 
their minds with every kind of literary and scientific 
acquirement adapted to prepare them for an elevated 
and honourable course in life ; instead of labouring to 
gather knowledge by handfuls, and to make every ses- 
sion a source of intellectual wealth ; how many act as 
if their object were to gain a diploma to which they 
had no title ; to cheat themselves and their parents by 
clutching a mere barren parchment ! 

Here, my dear sons, I must take my leave of you, 
and close these counsels. And yet I scarcely know 
how to lay aside my pen. Not that I feel as if I had 
anything new, or more weighty than has been already 



240 CONCLUSION. 

expressed, to say ; but because I scarcely know how 
to tear myself away from the chair of affectionate, 
paternal counsel, or cease to exhort and entreat, when 
I feel that so much may depend on " a word in sea- 
son" to those whose habits and character are forming. 
But to the God of your parents, I must now commit 
you. May he be your protector and your guide ! 
This shall be the unceasing prayer of your affectionate 
friend and father, 

SAMUEL MILLER. 

Princeton, February 1st, 1843. 



THE END. 



